For the Good of the Empire
by ParadigmShifter
Summary: Halloween Challenge Fic. Xander still chooses a military costume, but not in the way you expect. What are the repurcussions of going as an Imperial Grand Admiral? Chapter 9 Up!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Joss, WB, UPN et al. own Buffy. George Lucas, LucasFilm, LucasArts et al. own Star Wars. Timothy Zahn owns Grand Admiral Thrawn.  
  
Squaresoft own Final Fantasy. No, this isn't a FF fic.  
  
Title: For the Good of the Empire.  
  
Author: Paradigm Shifter  
  
Feedback: Yes! YES! Please?! Love to know what you think.  
  
Rating: I'll go with PG-13 for now. Be prepared for it to go up, though.  
  
Grateful Thanks: go to Trevelyan (Matt) and Bobby Cox. Your input and suggestions were both invaluable for this. And Bobby, you got your wish.  
  
;-)  
  
Notes: The first of a set of Halloween fics. All the others will be one-shots; this will be a continuing fic (mainly because the opportunity to rewrite Buffy if Thrawn was there is too good to miss) So... this is the first chapter (don't expect me to stick word for word to the script, that's boring. In fact, don't expect me to stick to anything other than the basic gist of the episodes...)  
  
It's not going to interfere with Xander the Jedi canon, and is basically stand alone. For those of you wanting more of Elysium, there is another chapter (almost) finished. SJ will need a bit more time. OK... a lot more time... ;-)  
  
*  
  
Ethan sidled up to a brown haired boy who had entered with two women, a blonde and a redhead. "Can I help you, young man?"  
  
Xander jumped, and looked around nervously for a second, before noticing the man standing next to him with a small nametag that read 'Ethan'. "Er...  
  
Yeah... I guess you can. That is, if you're the Ethan that owns this shop, yes?"  
  
"I'm the only Ethan I know, certainly, young man. Tell me, what is your name?"  
  
"Xander Harris." Xander fiddled with his hands in his pocket for a moment, before withdrawing one holding two bucks, and fingering them nervously.  
  
"Just call me the two-dollar Costume King."  
  
Ethan's smile faded as he heard that. He had hoped to get more from the Slayer's friends: that way, the costumes could be all the more powerful.  
  
"Ah... well, as you see, we don't have much in the way of costumes for two dollars."  
  
Xander shrugged. "I know. I wasn't after a full costume, just a toy gun.  
  
I've got some old fatigues at home, and was just lookin' around for the weapon."  
  
"And you were going to go as a military goon?" Ethan's tone told his opinion of that.  
  
Xander bristled slightly at the comment, but refrained from speaking. He couldn't afford, literally, to antagonise the owner of the shop.  
  
Ethan tutted, almost to himself, and continued, "and there will be many others with ideas like yourself. You will be but one soldier in a sea of many. That is hardly an original costume, son."  
  
"Well, excuse me if I can't afford more." Xander was seconds from walking out without the 'finishing touch' as he termed it.  
  
Ethan stepped smoothly around Xander, blocking his exit, and pointed further toward the back. "No, Xander, you seem to misunderstand me... I cannot have anyone unhappy with their costume at Halloween! Dear me, no! I insist that you choose something. Please."  
  
Xander seemed uncertain. "Well..."  
  
"Please. Anything you like."  
  
Xander started to ask, 'you're sure?' but Ethan intercepted the question.  
  
"You're...?"  
  
"I insist. Please." Ethan's smile was almost reptilian, but Xander missed it with the free ticket he had just been given.  
  
Ethan smiled wider as the boy near lost himself in the piles of accessories and racks of clothes. He turned to see the Slayer and her little friend swooning over an 18th century formal gown. He walked toward the pair, intent on getting the Slayer to take the costume. It would just be too delicious.  
  
"This may be better than I hoped..."  
  
*  
  
Willow squealed as Buffy held up the gown and looked down. "That will be perfect on you, Buffy!"  
  
Ethan grinned, and spoke from directly behind Willow, making her squeak in fright and turn around. "Indeed, yes, miss! That gown will suit you perfectly! If I may be so bold to say, the colour quite sets off your eyes."  
  
Buffy blushed at the unexpected compliment, and looked at the jewel encrusted gown. "Oh, it's lovely, but I could never..."  
  
"Of course you can, miss!" Ethan cut in, "and if you can't, well I'll be forced to give it to you for free! It is so perfect, I can't help myself!"  
  
Willow grinned behind Ethan, and bounced on tiptoes as if to say, 'See! See!  
  
Even he thinks it's perfect! Take it, Buffy! Angel will be drooling!'  
  
Buffy looked uncertain for a moment longer, before she folded under the 'Resolve Face' that Willow broke out. "OK," she said firmly, "I'll take it."  
  
Ethan smiled widely, only the fact that it didn't reach his eyes stopping it from being genuine. "Excellent, miss." He turned to Willow. "And you miss?  
  
What does _your_ heart desire this Halloween?" His grin was now near a leer.  
  
He couldn't help himself. The Slayer? A helpless 18th century aristocrat?  
  
That was just too perfect.  
  
Willow shrugged. "Oh, I have most of my costume at home, thank you."  
  
"And what was it that you were going to go as?" Ethan asked politely.  
  
"Well..." Willow seemed nervous, "a ghost. It's a classic."  
  
Ethan had to think for a moment. While a ghost meant she would be utterly incapable of fooling his plans, it was hardly the most amusing costume. She would be invulnerable to harm. Besides, what in life that was worthwhile didn't have a few risks? Finally, he came to a decision. "Indeed it is. It is also painfully overused." Ethan's tone was one of scathing disappointment.  
  
The tone of voice got Willow's back up. "Well?" she asked archly, "what would you suggest?"  
  
"May I suggest Helen of Troy?"  
  
Willow nodded absently, until she realised what he was intimating. "No!" she frowned at him. "Hang on... I've got an idea..."  
  
She vanished into the same area that Xander was exploring, but missed him as he moved deeper into the racks, while she went to the first set of bins and dug through. A few moments later, out came a small blaster, and in a rack of footwear, a pair of mid-to-upper calf black leather boots. They lacked a heel, and looked as if they might _just_ fit. But only just.  
  
Willow was muttering to herself as she walked back. "I've got the hair:  
  
check. And the green eyes: check. Attitude... ah, there, we have a problem..."  
  
Buffy smirked, "just think Resolve Face, Wills."  
  
Willow started at the sudden unexpected input. "Oh. Right. Thanks."  
  
She turned to Ethan. "That's fine, thanks."  
  
Ethan frowned, and Buffy unconsciously mirrored his frown. "What is that going to be?"  
  
Willow blushed deeply. "well... I thought... Maybe... Mara Jade?"  
  
Ethan looked blank, but some flicker of understanding lit in Buffy's eyes.  
  
"The Star Wars character?"  
  
Willow turned in surprise. "You _know_?"  
  
Buffy shrugged, and looked embarrassed. "Well... Xander kind of lent me a pile of books. She was in three of them."  
  
Willow grinned. "Don't worry, that's his way of saying you're part of the gang. Well, that and the Twinkie..."  
  
Buffy mock shuddered. "Don't remind me. But won't you need a jacket and some sort of body suit?"  
  
Willow nodded. "I've got a black bodysuit that I can use. Jesse bought it for me as a gag gift... about six months before you moved to Sunnydale."  
  
Even though it was a long time, really, since Jesse had died, Willow felt a pang of regret at not feeling sadder. Xander had been the closer of the two to Jesse: they were both guys, they talked about the same things.  
  
Buffy smirked. This should be fun.  
  
"And my mom's got a brown leather jacket that I can... um... borrow." Willow smiled. Her mother would go ballistic if she knew. But then, what she doesn't know, right?  
  
Buffy gave Willow the thumbs up. "Looks like we're all set." She turned to Ethan. "Ring it up, mister."  
  
Ethan smiled. "Certainly, young lady."  
  
This was going to be a most interesting evening.  
  
He could see it coming a mile off.  
  
*  
  
Xander rummaged through a rack of pirate costumes, which was sitting next to the rack of army fatigues and other military dress. He automatically discounted them, his sights set on something... intense. Otherworldly.  
  
Something that would, hopefully, make Buffy see him in a new light.  
  
He pulled out one costume. "Jedi? Nah... it's been done."  
  
He rummaged some more. "Darth Vader? Now _there_ is a costume. Don't think it'll make Buffy _see_ me though. Besides, I don't think being him would be a good idea. I'm not tall enough."  
  
A wig and a red and gold uniform came out on a hanger next. "What the hell?  
  
Flash Gordon? I don't _think_ so!" This too was discarded.  
  
Xander left that rack, and moved to the next. "Hm... what's this? Grey trenchcoat... with a cross on the sleeves. Seifer? Maybe... after all, I could dye my hair. Where's the Gunblade?"  
  
Five minutes of searching revealed a Revolver Gunblade, but no Hyperion.  
  
Seifer, wielding Squall's weapon? "No."  
  
Xander sighed, and then stopped still. An idea had just struck him. He went back to where he found the Star Wars costumes, and rummaged around for a plastic blaster. It was heavier than he anticipated, and then found a holster that fit. Quickly following were a pair of stark white trousers with knee-length black boots that ended just below the knee and a jacket just as harsh a white as the trousers. Another ten minutes diligent work had the gold brocade and marks of rank that mattered to his costume. He assembled them, and headed over toward Ethan, who had moved behind the counter after having persuaded Buffy to purchase the gown.  
  
*  
  
"Ring it up." Xander grinned at Ethan, and piled the costume on the countertop.  
  
"What's this, then?" Ethan asked with surprise. "Going with the military after all?"  
  
Xander winked, conspiratorially. "In a manner of speaking. Oh! I nearly forgot... have you got any light blue grease paint?"  
  
Ethan's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "Grease paint? Blue? What on earth are you concocting?"  
  
Xander grinned. "Ah, I guess I can tell you... Grand Admiral Thrawn."  
  
Ethan looked blank. "Who?"  
  
To say Xander was surprised would be putting it mildly. "You mean you've never seen Star Wars?"  
  
"Indeed I have, but I have no recollection of there being anyone such as this in the films."  
  
"Yes... that's because he was in the books."  
  
"Books?"  
  
"Grand Admiral Thrawn... the only non-human to ever make it to Grand Admiral in the Imperial navy. The greatest tactical mind the Empire ever had."  
  
"That doesn't help a great deal, Xander."  
  
Xander sighed. "The Empire was extremely xenophobic, yes? Thrawn was an alien, and as such, was never expected to amount to much. He was hated and despised by most of his peers in the Navy, and despite the Emperors hatred of 'lesser species' he acknowledged Thrawn's capability. He sent him into the unknown for years, to hide him away. The Empires dirty secret. Or maybe the Emperor had an inkling of what would come, and prepared for it..."  
  
Xander blinked, and could see that this was going completely over the store owners head.  
  
"Er... sorry. I'm babbling, aren't I?"  
  
Ethan shook his head. "That's perfectly alright. Here, you seem so enamoured of this idea I doubt I could persuade you otherwise." Ethan reached up to a shelf, and removed a pot of greasepaint. "Here. With my compliments."  
  
Xander nodded his thanks, and stuffed all the bits and pieces into a bag.  
  
Ethan smiled as Xander walked out. "Have a nice night!" He called after him.  
  
Xander turned and waved his thanks. Buffy and Willow had already left with their purchases. With how long he thought that gown of Buffy's would take to get into, he wouldn't be a bit surprised if she was already struggling into it.  
  
*  
  
Xander knocked nervously on the door of 1630 Rovello Drive, home of none other than Buffy Summers. And the rest of the Summers girls, of course. His white Admirals uniform was slightly too loose in the shoulders, but he figured that as the night wore on, he would get used to it. Lord knew that he'd feel a fool when the greasepaint went on.  
  
He heard the patter of feet, and the door opened with Dawn standing behind it. "Hi, Xander!"  
  
"Hello, Dawnie. How's things?" He stepped through the doorway, and grinned at Joyce as she looked over to see who had just walked in.  
  
Joyce smiled, "Hello, Xander. Buffy and Willow will be down in a minute.  
  
Feel free to have a seat while you're waiting. I'm sure, at least with Buffy's diaphanous costume, they will be a while longer."  
  
Buffy's voice sounded from the stairs. "I heard that, mom! And I'll have you know, we're finished!"  
  
Buffy descended the stairs regally, her hair piled up on her head in a complicated style that let ringlets fall around her face. Xander stood up in shock, and had to shake himself to stop himself from drooling.  
  
As it happened, he needn't have bothered, because Dawn kicked him none too gently in the shins to get his attention again, before he made a fool of himself.  
  
Xander managed to get his voice working again. "Glurk... er.. I mean, my Lady! Duchess of Buffonia! I completely renounce all skin-tight modern fabrics! Er... yes, that's what I do... I... Er..."  
  
Dawn grabbed his sleeve, and pulled his ear down to her mouth. "Drool any harder, and there'll be a puddle on the floor."  
  
Xander blinked, and looked at Dawn for a second. "Uh... yeah, right. Sorry, Dawn." He frowned. "Say... why aren't you coming Trick or Treating?"  
  
Dawn shrugged. "I don't feel like it. Mom and I are gonna have to quality mother/daughter time. Watch a few flicks; eat lots of popcorn... y'know, stuff like that."  
  
Buffy shot Dawn an envious look. "Yeah, and I could stay home and do that too, if it wasn't for that hideous little troll Snyder..."  
  
Xander smiled. "Cheer up, Buff. At least we're all together."  
  
Buffy's glare told him that was the wrong thing to say.  
  
A cough came from upstairs.  
  
Buffy raised a hand to her mouth, before she stepped aside and began the introductions. "Mother, Dawn, Xander, I have the great honour of presenting to you, Willow... in a fabulous..."  
  
Willow descended the stairs.  
  
"... ghost costume." Buffy finished lamely.  
  
"Hey, Wills," Xander greeted with a grin. "Nice sheet. Going for a new record?"  
  
Willow giggled nervously.  
  
Buffy tapped her foot, before walking up to Willow, and saying firmly, "that wasn't your costume! Come on, you had it on a minute ago!" With that, she whipped off the sheet, and revealed Willow to the astonished eyes of all in the room...  
  
*  
  
More to come...  
  
What do you think? Review, please! :) 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Joss, WB, UPN et al. own Buffy. George Lucas, LucasFilm, LucasArts et al. own Star Wars. Timothy Zahn owns Grand Admiral Thrawn. Squaresoft own Final Fantasy. No, this isn't a FF fic.  
  
Title: For the Good of the Empire.  
  
Author: Paradigm Shifter  
  
Feedback: Yes! YES! Please?! Love to know what you think.  
  
Rating: I'll go with PG-13 for now. Be prepared for it to go up, though.  
  
Grateful Thanks: go to Trevelyan (Matt) and Bobby Cox. Your input and suggestions were both invaluable for this.  
  
Notes: Thanks to Harry2 and Invincible Sword Goddess for reviewing, at least you were the only two when I posted this next chapter. And ISG, since you're obviously interested in learning some more about Mara, she was a character in the 'Empire' trilogy by Timothy Zahn. Good books. A pretty detailed Bio can be found here: http://www.starwars.com/databank/character/marajadeskywalker/eu.html Be warned, however, if you don't like Spoilers, then avoid this Bio. ;-)  
  
*  
  
Xander was the first to recover the power of speech. "Wills! Well... great! I mean... wow!"  
  
He was speechless for a moment longer, before adding half-uncertainly; "Mara Jade, yes?"  
  
Willow seemed to gain confidence suddenly, as she drew her plastic blaster, and pointed it hat him, before tilting her hips to the side and drawling, "I prefer the 'Emperors Hand'."  
  
Buffy stood open mouthed in shock at the transformation in Willow, while Xander was quietly cheering his friend. "Go, Willow! I much prefer this to the ghost. Although... I have to say, if I'd known you had those curves last year, I'd have forced you out of that sheet even if it made you go naked." He blushed. "uh... I... uh... I mean..."  
  
Buffy noticed Xander's costume for the first time, and drew the conversation away from the sudden uncomfortable turn it had taken. "And who are you, Xand?"  
  
Xander paused for a second, before reaching into a pocket. "I... have to visit the little boys' room." He grinned. "I'll show ya when I gat back. Promise."  
  
Willow frowned to herself, before turning to Buffy and asking nervously, "maybe I overdid it?"  
  
Buffy grinned. "In no way did you 'overdo it' Wills. That was _great_! I have to admit, I had a moment of doubt before I pulled that sheet. You never told me you were going to try that! I wish you had. Told me that is. The look on Xander's face was priceless!" The two giggled.  
  
Dawn angrily pushed between the two giggling teens. She fixed Willow with a stare. "Just remember, no stealing him from me!"  
  
This only caused Buffy and Willow to laugh harder.  
  
*  
  
Xander hurriedly pulled out the pot of greasepaint, and smothered some on his hands. He'd spent all of last night practicing putting the stuff on, and had got good at getting it up to his hairline, with out actually getting it _in_ his hair.  
  
Face down for a few seconds, he closed his eyes and ran the grease over his eyelids, before wiping it up over his forehead and down over his cheeks and finally his jaw line. Rubbing some onto his upper lip, he nearly sneezed, as he had all of last night. Xander wasn't allergic to the grease, he just felt like he had to sneeze whenever something touched his top lip. It was disquieting.  
  
Looking up into the mirror, he stared at his reflection. His slicked back hair was as black as night, and his eyes, while he had forgotten to get contacts the right red colour, were narrowed as if taking in everything, and not liking it one bit. Wiping the remains of the greasepaint on his hands over the backs, and making sure his palms weren't covered and maybe therefore smudge on his immaculate uniform, he smirked at his reflection before pulling open the door and exiting, stage right.  
  
*  
  
Willow shrieked and tried to hide as Xander descended the stairs. Buffy, whose back was turned, looked round to see a blue skinned demon approaching in what had been Xander's costume. Despite her mother and sister being there, she jumped on the offensive.  
  
Willow's quick thinking and fortuitous grabbing of Buffy's dress saved them all from a lot of embarrassment. She stood, gaping at Xander's costume, and in shock that he had managed to upstage her, even without realising it.  
  
Xander looked nervously around. "Well?" he asked cautiously, "what do you think?"  
  
Buffy was the first to speak. "Uh... sorry. That Admiral guy, right?"  
  
Xander grinned. Buffy obviously _had_ read those books after all. "Right, Buff." He agreed. "Grand Admiral Thrawn."  
  
Willow shook herself, and recovered the power of speech. "Wow."  
  
Xander grinned. "I'm 'wow' worthy, Wills? Thanks! I always wanted to do this costume! Never had the time or money, though." He seemed to retreat into himself again.  
  
Buffy and Willow were both a little uncertain of what to say, but Dawn coughed and said innocently, "if you don't go soon, you'll be late..."  
  
Buffy's eyes flicked up, and she rushed for the door.  
  
Willow and Xander followed more sedately, and helped Buffy, who was struggling to get the gown through the door, to exit the house.  
  
Xander grinned. "So... Wills... where's the light-saber?"  
  
Willow shrugged. "Hey, I chose to go when Mara was the 'Emperors Hand', Xand. She didn't use a saber then."  
  
Xander nodded, and looked at Buffy, who was awkwardly silent as they walked.  
  
"Everything OK, Buffster?"  
  
Buffy grinned over at the pair of Star Wars fans, but still seemed... distant. "Yeah, Xander. Looking at you and Willow... well, I can't help but think that this gown was a bad idea. We could have all gone as a set, sort of thing!"  
  
Xander nodded. "We could have, you're right. But where's the fun in that?" He lost some of his smile. "Besides, didn't you get that for De... I mean, Angel?"  
  
Buffy sighed. "Yeah. I did. But is he going to be here?"  
  
Seeing a friend down, Xander instantly went into 'comfort' mode. "He'll be there, Buff. I'm sure he will."  
  
Willow chipped in, supportive too. "Angel would be mad to miss this, Buffy! He'll have a heart attack when he sees that dress! Well, I mean that in a good way... and seeing as how he doesn't actually have a heartbeat, he wont so much have a heart attack, but I'm sure it'll..."  
  
Seeing the twin looks that Buffy and Xander were giving her, Willow cut her rambling short, and blushed scarlet. "Shutting up now."  
  
Xander grinned, while Buffy offered a sickly smile. Having a 'star-crossed love' was great, and all, but sometimes she just couldn't see past the fact that while he was animated, Angel was still just a _corpse_. Of course, when things started to get hot and heavy, she never remembered. And she kind of liked Angel's cool fingers tracing over her skin, if she was honest with herself. It gave her the shivers. In a good way, of course.  
  
She was brought up short in her mental discourse by Snyder's voice cutting into her ears. "_So_ nice of you three to show up, now. And who'd have thought you could arrive on time for _anything_?"  
  
Xander and Willow remained silent, while Buffy mumbled something about 'trolls and caves'.  
  
Snyder whipped round and fixed Buffy with a glare. "What was that, Summers?"  
  
he asked with venom.  
  
Buffy shook her head. "Er... we're honoured to be taking these little um..." she looked over at the groups that had been assembled, and the only words that sprung to mind to describe them were 'snotty terrors', "angels out Trick or Treating, sir."  
  
Behind her, Buffy could feel the questioning glances of Xander and Willow as they looked first at Buffy, and then at the kids.   
  
"Angels?" Xander mouthed at Willow.  
  
Willow just shrugged. Hers was not to reason why.  
  
Xander snickered, and Buffy felt the back of her neck get warm from a blush she knew she couldn't avoid.  
  
As it turned out, Snyder saved her from any further embarrassment. "Well, you're here now, and that's all I care about. You each have a group, so choose whichever one you wish, and take them away." He stalked off.  
  
Buffy hung her head. "Well, that went well."  
  
Xander patted her on the shoulder. "Hey, cheer up, Buff. It could have been worse..."  
  
"And _how_ could that have gone worse, Xan?"  
  
Xander blinked innocently at her. "He could have given us all detention?"  
  
Willow's quiet 'eep' of terror made Buffy smile slightly. Willow had never received detention, ever. And she intended, through all appearances, as if she was going to keep it that way. No detention for Will Rosenberg, no sir!  
  
Larry swaggered up to the three. "What are you dressed as, Harris? Do fags have ranks, now?"  
  
Xander turned slowly, and gave Larry an almost evil grin. His blue face seemed to accent his dark eyes, and the shadows made his face appear almost demonic. The natural response of any Sunnydalian to something appearing demonic was to run, since something which appeared demonic often _was_, but Larry was denser than most. Either that or he was made of sterner stuff than the rest of the town. "You know, Lar... that pirate's wooden leg is very Freudian. I wouldn't walk around taking about fags in a costume like that. You might find one." His grin increased, and Xander stepped forward.  
  
Larry retreated, casting nervous glances back at Xander as he hurried away to the furthest group.  
  
Willow moved up next to Xander. "That was... um... brave. In a stupid kind of way. What would you have done if he'd called your bluff?"  
  
Xander chuckled. "Fainted."  
  
Willow seemed to consider this. "That works." She frowned. "What's with 'Freudian'?"  
  
Xander shrugged. "It sounded good. And I don't _always_ go to sleep in class, Wills. Sometimes I listen."  
  
Willow gave him a look that as much said, 'since when?'  
  
Xander shrugged again. "OK, so I don't do that much listening. But it was in a magazine I read at the hospital, once."  
  
"All the mags at the hospital are out of date rubbish that people have thrown away."  
  
Xander fixed Willow with an amused look. "I was bored. Sue me."  
  
"How much?" Willow shot back.  
  
"All I've got is a Twinkie and my dashing good looks. And you can't have the looks. I need them."  
  
"I'll take the Twinkie." Willow grinned.  
  
"No!" Xander cried in mock-alarm. "Not my last Twinkie!"  
  
Buffy dug the two of them in the ribs. "Have you two quite finished being strange?"  
  
Xander and Willow looked at each other, then back at Buffy, before looking back at themselves again. As one, they said, "Nah!" and turned away. With her Slayer hearing, Buffy detected the quiet humming of 'We're off to see the Wizard..." on Xander's part. Willow was giggling quietly to herself at their antics.  
  
*  
  
Ethan entered the back room of his shop, and looked at the statue taking centre stage. "Janus..." he whispered reverently.  
  
He kneeled before the statue, placing his palms together and wincing in pain as the small blade he held clasped cut both palms deeply.  
  
"Janus... the World that denies thee, thou inhabit..."  
  
He ran his hand across the cut on his left palm, and ran it across his right eye.  
  
"The Peace that ignores thee..."  
  
He did the same with the other hand and eye, mirroring his previous action.  
  
"...thou corrupt..."  
  
He drew a cross on his forehead, and bowed at the statue, closing his eyes.  
  
"Chaos... I remain... as ever, thy faithful degenerate son." He poured the blood cupped in his palm onto the statue.  
  
The preparation was over. Now... for the main event.  
  
*  
  
Read 'n' Review? 


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Joss, WB, UPN et al. own Buffy. George Lucas, LucasFilm, LucasArts et al. own Star Wars. Timothy Zahn owns Grand Admiral Thrawn. Squaresoft own Final Fantasy. No, this isn't a FF fic.  
  
Title: For the Good of the Empire.  
  
Author: Paradigm Shifter  
  
Feedback: Yes! YES! Please?! Love to know what you think.  
  
Rating: I'll go with PG for now. Be prepared for it to go up, though.  
  
Grateful Thanks: go to Trevelyan (Matt) and Bobby Cox. Your input and suggestions were both invaluable for this.  
  
Notes: The first of a set of Halloween fics. All the others will be one-shots; this will be a continuing fic (mainly because the opportunity to rewrite Buffy if Thrawn was there is too good to miss) So... this is the third chapter (don't expect me to stick word for word to the script, that's boring. In fact, don't expect me to stick to anything other than the basic gist of the episodes...)  
  
Responses to the various reviewers questions etc:  
  
poet freak: No, you're not the only ones. :D And I know Dawn isn't meant to be there, but she adds an interesting angle, I think.  
  
rickW22: Right now. LOL.  
  
ms8309: Yep, more is coming. :) And more Elysium will be up 'soon'. I put soon in inverted commas, because while most of it is written, one scene is bugging me. I can't get it right. And it's important. ;)  
  
To everyone, thanks for reviewing. I'm glad you like it. :)  
  
This ones a bit shorter, I'm afraid. I got sidetracked with another idea. ;)  
  
*  
  
Xander stood in front of the group he had been assigned to, by simple lack of anyone else to take them. It figured that he'd be dumped with the most evil group of kids, _ever_. They couldn't stand still and listen.  
  
Once they'd got over their fright of him – which seemed to stem mostly from the fact that his skin was blue, and that the kids weren't quite as immune to strange happenings as their parents were – they refused to calm down. It was like having twenty copies of Willow on a sugar high, except for one minor detail: these sugar high kids didn't care about getting into trouble.  
  
Finally, Xander had had enough. He drew in a deep breath, and bellowed, "Atten – shun!"  
  
They paused, one boy stopped in mid yank of a smaller girl's hair, and then something amazing happened. They all stopped, and looked around guiltily. Xander nodded to himself, before continuing at a more normal volume, "OK. Thank you. Now: do you all want to know how to sleaze extra candy?"  
  
The quiet kids nodded in rapt fascination.  
  
"Right. Now, here are the basics: _tears_. These are your key to success. Guys don't be afraid to howl like a hungry prairie dog if you want more. Girls, just do the usual, and you should be fine. Any of you know the puppy-dog trick? No? Right. Wide, pleading eyes. Don't blink. Get's 'em every time. And for those feeling brave, we have the old 'you missed me' routine. But it's dodgy: especially with old people. They're sharper than they look. Only... I repeat, _only_ go there if it's chocolate on offer, and your feeling deprived."  
  
He surveyed the troops. "Everyone got that? Yes? Good. Let's go."  
  
The column of small Trick or Treater's marched out in Xander's wake.   
  
Buffy turned to Willow, and whispered, "Well, there goes one General that leads from the front."  
  
Willow smiled. "Grand Admiral, Buffy. But I know what you mean."  
  
*  
  
Spike watched with interest from the shadows at the groups moving past in a relatively orderly fashion, moving from house to house. While Halloween was traditionally a time when Vampires and demons laid low and didn't cause trouble, Spike watched for any fun to be had.  
  
One year he'd managed to persuade one of the kids' teenaged guides to come back to the house he had moved into for a 'nightcap'. God only knew why the teen went as a witch: she was quite the stunner under all the fake warts and false nose. But irrespective of that, her looks wasn't what Spike was after. Her blood was all that mattered. Dru had done some lovely things before finally tearing the girl's throat out. He would always look back at that Halloween, and smile.  
  
*  
  
Buffy squatted down as best she could in the large gown, and quirked an eyebrow questioningly at her group of Trick or Treaters. "Well, what did Mrs. Davis give you?"  
  
Her group pulled out toothbrushes, each with funny designs on, and looked dejected.  
  
Buffy frowned. "Typical." She muttered. She stood up, "she must be stopped! Mrs. Davis will hand out no more toothbrushes to kids seeking candy!" She calmed. "But we can worry about that later." She glanced at her watch, and winced. "We've got time to hit one more house, and then I'd better get you back. 'Kay?"  
  
The whole group nodded as one.  
  
*  
  
Ethan knelt again in front of the statue, which had small rivulets of his – now dried – blood running down from above the two faces.  
  
He chanted in Latin, his voice rising and falling with the rhythm of what he was murmuring. "Janus, evoco vestram anima. Exaudi meam causam. Carpe noctem pro consilio vestro. Veni, appare et mobis monstra quod infinitum potestas."  
  
*  
  
The door in front of Willow's group opened, and the house occupant squealed in mock fear before smiling and saying, "Goodness, what superb costumes! Aren't you all adorable?"  
  
*  
  
Ethan bowed down, his forhead almost touching the floor, his arms wide at his sides, eyes painfully wide in their sockets as he continued to chant. "Persona se corpum et sanguium commutandum est. Vestra sancta praesentia concrescet viscera. Janus! Sume noctem! Janus!"  
  
*  
  
Buffy shivered as her groups are being given their last bit of candy for the night, and looks around her. "Something isn't right..."  
  
*  
  
"Oh dear, am I all out?"  
  
*  
  
Ethan grinned. "It's time to show this town just what they've been missing. JANUS!"  
  
The lightbulb above his head exploded in a shower of sparks, bathing the room in darkness.  
  
*  
  
"I could have sworn I had more candy... I..."  
  
The lady's voice died in her throat the instant the small Trick or Treater standing in front of her growled far more deeply that it should be able to.  
  
"Maybe I..."  
  
Her question is cut off abruptly when the small monster grabs for her throat, and squeezes hard. Struggling for breath, the lady beats the demon off her with the empty bucket, before retreating into the house screaming in terror.  
  
Willow squealed and fell over backwards as the demon launched itself at her, and rolled to her feet suddenly, all hint of terror gone. Now, she was all business. A business that didn't allow for mistakes.  
  
The blaster was in her hand automatically, and Mara Jade, the Emperor's Hand, turned to survey the scene in front of her...  
  
* 


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Joss, WB, UPN et al. own Buffy. George Lucas, LucasFilm, LucasArts et al. own Star Wars. Timothy Zahn owns Grand Admiral Thrawn. Squaresoft own Final Fantasy. No, this isn't a FF fic.  
  
Title: For the Good of the Empire.  
  
Author: Paradigm Shifter  
  
Feedback: Yes! YES! Please?! Love to know what you think.  
  
Rating: I'll go with PG for now. Be prepared for it to go up, though.  
  
Grateful Thanks: go to Trevelyan (Matt) and Bobby Cox. Your input and suggestions were both invaluable for this.  
  
Notes: The first of a set of Halloween fics. All the others will be one-shots; this will be a continuing fic (mainly because the opportunity to rewrite Buffy if Thrawn was there is too good to miss) So... this is the fourth chapter (don't expect me to stick word for word to the script, that's boring. In fact, don't expect me to stick to anything other than the basic gist of the episodes...)  
  
*  
  
One moment, Xander was guiding his group of for now, at least, surprisingly well behaved Trick or Treaters down the street, and the next...  
  
...he was no longer himself.  
  
His mind rebelled for an instant. No longer himself? Of course he was.  
  
It was a dichotomy of feeling. Two minds could remember themselves, but were within one body. Engaging in a battle of wills, one won, and one lost.  
  
What _had_ been Xander, lost.  
  
The alien presence won.  
  
Thrawn straightened as he came back to himself, and shrugged his uniform into a better fit on his shoulders. Blinking the momentary dizziness away, he looked at a world that seemed... less sharp than his view used to be. And more worryingly, there were buildings and people about him. Strange... he didn't remember visiting any populated worlds in the Unknown Regions.  
  
But here he was. There was obviously civilisation, although a primitive one by the Empire's standards. Small... things... ran about unchecked, and he felt his pockets for some sort of communicator.  
  
The Chimaera, surely, would be in orbit?  
  
But no, it seemed as if the Emperor had one more test for him. One more stratagem needed before he could return and claim his place amount the Twelve Grand Admirals. He wore the rank: he wore the title. But none other than the Emperor, himself, one of the Emperors many 'Hands', and his Fleet knew it.  
  
Thrawn felt a pang of uncertainty as he discovered that he had no communication equipment. He had a blaster, however, and that made him feel a little better. Drawing it, but holding it loosely at his side, he turned around on the spot slowly, and watched the world.  
  
The small creatures – perhaps more alien even than some of the sub-humanoids he had discovered in the Unknown Regions – ran riot. None dared to approach him, and he walked through the chaos, part of it, but at the same time divorced from the proceedings.   
  
A voice made him turn, and his eyes widened as he saw who had called.  
  
"Jade..." he growled.  
  
*  
  
Mara Jade fired a shot as the creature charged, and her eyes widened as two things happened.  
  
The first, and by far the most important in her eyes, was that the charging creature collapsed as soon as the shot engulfed it, twitching and spasming as it went.  
  
The second, and one that she would be berating herself about for a long time, was that the blaster pistol was on 'stun'. Pumping one more shot into the creature, she stood carefully, and flicked the selector switch to 'kill' as she did so. Better to have too much firepower in a shot than too little.  
  
Sore muscles protested as they were used in ways that they were not accustomed to, and Mara winced. "Am I out of shape?"  
  
Then she scowled, as she realised she had shown a sign of weakness.  
  
Thank the Force that the Emperor had not seen that little display: he would have killed her outright – both for the evidence of cowardice as she had fallen backwards under the assault, and for showing a weakness afterward.  
  
There seemed to be hundreds of the creatures running around what looked to be a simple, but still post-Stone age society. Mara made a snap decision at that moment: the creatures seemed to be less bothered by her than she was by them: unless they attacked her, she was going to leave them be. It was the better way with primitive societies: attacking them could mean more problems than it was worth.  
  
A scream rent the air, and Mara was instantly alert again. A girl in a large gown, similar to the things the Emperor forced Mara to wear on dress occasions, but all red instead of green, was fleeing headlong from a small group of the creatures.  
  
Mara spun, tripping up the girl as she ran past, sending her sprawling to the dirt. Bringing her weapon to bear, she calmly flicked the weapon to 'stun' again, and took out the four creatures chasing the girl, with a practiced ease that came back to her now she wasn't as disoriented as she had been initially.  
  
The girl continued to scream as she saw the four creatures go down writhing in the electric arcs that stun blasts left.  
  
"Would you be quiet?!" Mara snapped, which only served to get the girl _crying_ and screaming, instead of just screaming.  
  
Getting sick of the noise, Mara leaned in close to the girl, and dragged her to her feet, while jamming the blaster viciously into her abdomen. "Shut up, or by the Force, I'll gutshoot you and leave you here for those _things_ to do whatever they want with you!"  
  
The girl snivelled. "You... you wouldn't!" she regained some poise – as much as could be expected given her now torn and grubby gown, and red eyes. "I am a Lady, and I'll have you flogged from one end of this town to the other if you do not do your duty and protect me!"  
  
Mara snorted. "Protect you? _Me_? Get this into your pretty little blonde head, girl: it's not my duty. I owe my allegiance to one man, and _one_man_only_!"  
  
"My father will pay a handsome sum to see me returned safely!"  
  
This brought Mara up short. Money? This world that was more of a backwater than Tatooine had _currency_? Then it wasn't all lost. "How much?"  
  
"My father will be more than happy to give the princely sum of ten sovereigns." Buffy replied.  
  
"Ten?" Mara snapped, "what are you trying to pull, girl? Ten of _anything_ isn't worth saving _your_ sorry butt."  
  
"It's... it's the entire taxes the landholdings pay in three years!" Buffy was in tears from terror and shock. To be rescued, or supposedly rescued, only to have something worse than her original fate happen her way! It was too much for such a high-born lady.  
  
Mara sighed. Obviously, the girl was the daughter of an important man. At least in this world. It would be best not to antagonise her. 'Ingratiate yourself with her, and you've ingratiated yourself with her parents,' a little voice in her head told her. She agreed. "Oh, come on, girl. Don't cry." Mara was inwardly rolling her eyes at what she was saying, "I'll get you back to your parents, and you can live happily ever after..."  
  
All the time, her mind was making sarcastic little snide-asides, an inner monologue that would have done the most cynical Imperial Senator proud.  
  
Buffy stopped sniffling, and looked at her guardian. "Thank you. Where do you wish to head?"  
  
Mara shrugged. "I really don't care. Down this pathway looks a likely choice. It's large, and may lead to civilisation. Or some more of it, anyway..."  
  
Buffy hiked up her skirts and petticoats. "Very well. Although I cannot travel quickly, I shall develop blisters, you know." She waved a dainty foot in the air as demonstration, and Mara rolled her eyes again as she saw the delicate slippers that she had on.  
  
Mara sighed heavily, and waved her free hand in a combined gesture of resignation and 'follow me'. "Alright. Whatever. Come on, let's go."  
  
*  
  
The Gunblade came crashing down on one of the little demons that had charged him, and Seifer sneered as the last of them fell.  
  
How he had come to be here, he had no recollection of. How he had come to be here with Squall's revolver, he had some rough idea of. He had just taken it as a trophy after Squall's spectacular defeat at the hands of his Mistress, Ultimecia. But Squall didn't know that. Seifer grinned. While he had favoured the Hyperion Gunblade, there were things to be said for Squall's revolver model. It had power where the Hyperion did not, and was well able – when there was some weight behind it – to cleave through anything.  
  
Although he would never even _think_ of telling Squall, he admired the weapon.  
  
Kicking one of the corpses contemptuously, Seifer strode off. The Mistress wished the world, and she would have it: be it his, this one, or any other...  
  
* 


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter. I'm sorry it took so long for this one to come out... One of my beta's went away for Easter, and that's always a busy time for me anyway. So without further ado, chapter 5:  
  
Disclaimer: Joss, WB, UPN et al. own Buffy. George Lucas, LucasFilm, LucasArts et al. own Star Wars. Timothy Zahn owns Grand Admiral Thrawn. Squaresoft own Final Fantasy. No, this isn't a FF fic.  
  
Title: For the Good of the Empire.  
  
Author: Paradigm Shifter  
  
Feedback: Yes! YES! Please?! Love to know what you think.  
  
Rating: I'll go with PG for now. Be prepared for it to go up, though.  
  
Grateful Thanks: go to Trevelyan (Matt) and Bobby Cox. Your input and suggestions were both invaluable for this.   
  
Notes: The first of a set of Halloween fics. All the others will be one-shots; this will be a continuing fic (mainly because the opportunity to rewrite Buffy if Thrawn was there is too good to miss) So... this is the fifth chapter (don't expect me to stick word for word to the script, that's boring. In fact, don't expect me to stick to anything other than the basic gist of the episodes...)  
  
*  
  
Mara Jade visibly _stalked_ down the tarmac of the street, with a whining Lady in tow. Whoever this noblewoman was, she was a first-class moaner. She hadn't shut up for more than five seconds. Reaching the limit of her endurance, Mara cut off the fifth tirade about the state of her shoes in as many minutes with a sudden halt and a snarl.  
  
"Shut up, girl! Or by the Emperors Black Bones I will _make_ you shut up!"  
  
Buffy sniffed hautily. "Well! I have never been so...!"  
  
Mara cut her off. "Get this through your thick head, girl: _I_don't_care_! There may be things out there worse than me, but right now, I don't think that there _can_ be!"  
  
"If you persist in this..." Buffy's response died in her throat as Jade's eyes narrowed and Buffy felt a pressure in the back of her head.  
  
Her lips moved.  
  
But no sound came out.  
  
Jade smiled, and it was far from friendly. "I've just helped you in your endeavour to be silent. Don't be overly concerned, I'll reverse it when we get where you need to be."  
  
Jade spun around as if stung, and Buffy saw her fix her gaze on a blue-skinned man in a white uniform.  
  
She heard, too, the dislike evident in Mara's voice as she hissed a name. "Thrawn."  
  
*  
  
Thrawn strode purposefully toward where he had heard Mara Jade's dulcet tones chewing out someone. He paused for a fraction of a second as she came into view, and wondered, not for the first time, how she could be so self-assured that she was the lone Hand of the Emperor.  
  
If course, to Thrawn, it made perfect strategic sense to have a network of blindly loyal agents – some men, and some women – who would do anything... _anything_ for the man they were conditioned to serve. Mara Jade was but Palpatine's current favourite. It also made sense to have none of the agents know about any of the others. That way, they were protected.  
  
Thrawn could guarantee that the only person who knew all of his agents was the Emperor himself. A man strong enough to erase the minds of every human and non-human on Coruscant when he buried the Lusankya there had to be capable of much else, as well.  
  
He wondered vaguely, for a moment, why the Emperor insisted on using Vader and the Imperial fleet to exterminate the recent rebel uprisings rather than just simply killing every insurgent with the power of the Force.  
  
Such was the power the Emperor wielded.  
  
Thrawn's own whispered growl brought him out of the unexpected reverie, and he began to think of all he knew about the Emperors current 'pet'. "Jade..."  
  
Adopted by the Emperor when he found her a handful of years ago, she had been trained as an aide, an assassin, and a Force-sensitive agent. There were rumours that she shared his bed, but they were nothing more than that – Thrawn personally doubted that anyone the Emperor chose to be physically intimate with would survive the experience. She was among the few regular aides when the Emperor 'held court' with his closest advisors, and was meant to be one of the few who knew the identity of Lord Vader: something that even Thrawn himself did not know. Again, it was mere rumour: Vader seemed to guard his identity jealously – killing any who began to gain an inkling of who he had been prior to whatever had encased him in his Dark Armour. But Jade... she was mostly a mystery: she flitted in and out of roles like a born actress, having masqueraded as a sector Moff's mistress, a rich gambler on a sabbatical to the Golden Casinos, a Corellian prostitute and a smuggler, to name a few. All the missions ended in a gruesome death for the target. Mara was _far_ from subtle with her 'messages'.  
  
Little about her other than that was known. It was all rumours and wild guesses. The Emperor kept a tight reign on his agents: rarely, if ever, did any information that the Emperor had not first vetted slip out.  
  
Her eyes met his, and not for the first time, Thrawn was grateful to his race's natural resistance to Force probing. The only man ever capable of breaking through that shield was the Emperor, and it had caused both of them a great degree of pain. Thrawn remembered just how close the red swathed Imperial Guard had been to killing him as they saw the Emperor collapse with the strain of his mental investigation into Thrawn's mind. Only one quietly croaked word saved his life that day. And it began the new life of one who would rise higher than any other non-human in the ranks of the Empire.  
  
The dislike, but still respectful subservience, was evident. Thrawn might have been an alien – he was a Chiss, a member of a race of blue-skinned humanoids who, apart from him adamantly stated that only retaliation in case of attack was justifiable. But he was still one of the Emperors Grand Admirals. That the Emperor saw fit to award Thrawn with that singular honour said much: few in the Empire had the outright xenophobia that the Emperor claimed as his own.  
  
Grand Admiral Thrawn.  
  
Mara Jade.  
  
The two faced each other, and neither was willing to admit that they had no idea where they were.  
  
"Why are you here, Jade?" Thrawn growled, his eyes narrowed.  
  
"I could ask you the same question, Admiral." While Mara was the Emperors Hand, and as such was accorded much leeway, Thrawn had a far higher rank than her: technically, at least. That allowed Thrawn the ability to be almost overtly rude, while Mara had to hide behind her courtesan training. Honorifics were the first, and one of the less subtle ways of establishing dominance over an opponent.  
  
Thrawn's attention was diverted for a second, as Buffy edged away in fear. He was blue. That meant that he wasn't human.  
  
And his eyes glowed. An angry red. A memory fired, and for a second, Buffy shook her head – undecided whether she was trying to dislodge the memory, or bring it forward so that she could remember it properly.  
  
As quickly as the memory had arrived, it was lost again.  
  
Thrawn frowned at Mara again. "Has the Emperor ordered you to start picking up strays, now, Jade?"  
  
Mara sneered at him. "Of course not: 'Leave the weak to fend for themselves.' But she may be useful. The creatures on this world do not seem to be particularly intelligent. She was the only one I have met with the ability to speak."  
  
"The smaller things? Have they attacked you?"  
  
"One did. But the rest seem to be more obsessed with attacking each _other_. A few were chasing this sorry specimen," Mara gestured to Buffy, who had collapsed onto the ground and was crying silently, "but they go down easily enough with a stun blast. You don't need to kill them, just knock them out."  
  
"Is this the Emperors Hand I hear speaking? I thought your attitude was 'there are two settings for a blaster: they're dead, or I'm dead.'"  
  
Mara shrugged.  
  
Thrawn continued, "Well, it is of little consequence. All that matters is getting off this... septic little ball."  
  
"And how do you suggest we do that? I don't have any sort of Comms equipment."  
  
Thrawn looked at Mara, and for a second, she almost stepped back in the heat of his gaze. "Then I suggest that we find some," he said quietly.  
  
*  
  
Spike wondered through Sunnydale, almost as if he was in a daze. This was just too perfect! Everyone was helpless, as they became whatever they dressed up as. He thought he had caught a glimpse of the Slayer running like all Hell was behind her from just four of the little demons that the children had become. He hadn't seen the rest of her little crew yet, but he felt, in his unbeating heart, that they would all be as pitiful and helpless as the Slayer was.  
  
He was on his way back to his hideout to fetch Dru. She might not have been as strong as she could be, but – dammit! – she wouldn't want to miss this. He was sure that she would tell him something... delicious from Miss Edith.  
  
"Urgh..." Spike grunted, "now _I'm_ talking about that damn doll as if it were a person." He grimaced. "Shoot me now!"  
  
A chuckle from the shadows jerked him back to reality. "Don't mind if I do," a voice said before Spike felt his shoulder explode in fire.  
  
Seifer strode from the shadows, and sneered at Spike, who was crouched, cradling his shoulder in pain. "Honestly, you pitiful things are no more difficult to defeat than anything else here!"  
  
"Who are you?" Spike bit out, buying time for his shoulder to heal.  
  
"Oh, I _do_ beg your pardon," Seifer mocked, "My name is Seifer. Seifer Almasy. Remember it, if you survive."  
  
"What do you want?"  
  
Seifer grinned. "I want something to give me a challenge!"  
  
Spike looked up, and his face slid into his vampiric form. "You want something to challenge you?" he snarled, "what about me?"  
  
Seifer laughed contemptuously. "Oh, please. As if a _vampire_ could hurt me!"  
  
Spike watched as Seifer's hand moved in a pattern, disconcerted for a second by the human's utter lack of fear. He wasn't one of the Slayer's group; so how did he know...?  
  
Then he screamed in agony as he felt a spell grip him.  
  
Seifer smiled widely, his eyes widening seemingly to insanity. "Don't you just love Regen?" Then he saw the pain Spike was in. "I know you, vampire. I know your kind, I know your methods. The undead are always vulnerable to curative magic... and this is a particularly... lengthy... spell. It may kill you, it may not. If it does, you were not worth my time anyway. But if it does not..." Seifer reached down and gripped Spikes hair in his free fist, "then come see me. Or the consequences will be... dire."  
  
Spike just writhed around, his screams now hoarse as he continued.  
  
Seifer spat on the ground in contempt. "And to remind you, I'll give you a reason to come see me."  
  
The revolver cut down, severing Spikes arm at the elbow. Seifer picked up the severed forearm, and looked at the terrified vampire. "I can heal this for you. But you need the arm to do it."  
  
Spike watched in terror, thinking that his eyes were playing tricks on him, as the image of his torturer suddenly doubled, and a second form walked free of the corporeal man.  
  
Ultimecia looked down at the stricken vampire. "As he," she gestured at Seifer, "is mine, so shall you be." She stepped forward, and Spike found himself crawling backwards as fast as possible so as to escape her. But it was too late, she walking through him, and Spike felt the terror settle as something joined with his demon.  
  
He felt her voice speak slowly, forcefully in his head, and he wept blood red tears.  
  
The words she spoke were these: "So you are."  
  
* 


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Joss, WB, UPN et al. own Buffy. George Lucas, LucasFilm, LucasArts et al. own Star Wars. Timothy Zahn owns Grand Admiral Thrawn. Squaresoft own Final Fantasy. No, this isn't a FF fic.  
  
Title: For the Good of the Empire.  
  
Author: Paradigm Shifter  
  
Feedback: Yes! YES! Please?! Love to know what you think.  
  
Rating: I'll go with PG for now. Be prepared for it to go up, though.  
  
Grateful Thanks: go to Trevelyan (Matt) and Bobby Cox. Your input and suggestions were both invaluable for this.  
  
Notes: I hate exams. I really hate exams. [sigh]  
  
*  
  
Buffy screamed and huddled behind Thrawn as a car backfired down the street.  
  
"Demon!" Buffy wailed in fear.  
  
Thrawn sucked in a breath. This seeming noble drained his patience almost as much as it did Mara's.   
  
"It's not a demon, girl. Its..." he trailed off as he realised he did not know what to call the mechanical contraption. It looked vaguely like one of the aerial taxis that were forever in the air all over Coruscant, the Imperial Throne World, but it had wheels. "...it's a..."  
  
"It's a car." A male voice said from the shadows. "And you would do well to undo whatever you have done to the Slayer, demon."  
  
"Demon? _Me_?" Thrawn was insulted. "You _dare_ address a Grand Admiral so?"  
  
Angel coalesced out of the dark. "Let Buffy go."  
  
Thrawn looked at the cowering noblewoman. "Is that her name? And why would we release her to you... she is more scared of you that she is of us!"  
  
Angel realised, belatedly, that while Buffy might not be acting like the Slayer right now, the Slayer essence remained in her. Her 'spidey-sense' as Xander had termed it, was on alert because of _him_. Before anything else, boyfriend or no, Angel was a vampire. It was something he tried his best to forget.   
  
He opened his mouth to speak again, and felt the air chill.  
  
Mara stepped out behind him. She had been a short distance away from Thrawn as she felt a disturbance in the Force... and it was centred on this man. This man – who despite walking and talking – was completely missing from her Force sense.   
  
If she hadn't quickly understood how to follow him in the Force, he would have been completely invisible to her. It was less the idea of tracking a person or a creature with the Force, as she could do – barely – with the little creatures that were running around, and more of watching currents in the Force: the web of Force that all living things created was disturbed as he moved through it. Almost like an atmospheric fighter's vapour trail.  
  
Her voice was cold, and full of malice. "I don't think you want to do that."  
  
Angel spun in surprise – more due to someone's ability to sneak up on him that fear – and visibly relaxed as he saw who he assumed to be Willow. "Willow, thank God, help me get Buffy away from him!"  
  
Mara frowned. "Willow?"  
  
Thrawn chuckled. "He seems to be calling you a tree, Jade."  
  
Mara smirked, "so I noticed."  
  
Angel turned back to Thrawn, and started to approach. Cautiously, but still threateningly. He growled as he moved. "Let Buffy go."  
  
Thrawn stood firm. "Most amusing... and yet, I tire of this..." his blaster pistol was drawn and pointing at Angel in a fraction of a second. "I'll give you one warning. Then one warning _shot_. Make the most of my generosity."  
  
Angel faltered. He obviously needed support, as this wasn't getting him anywhere.  
  
Mara rolled her eyes, "I'm bored. Hurry it up, or let me do it."  
  
The next thing Angel knew, he was flailing at his head as his hair burned. The whine of a blaster recharging its capacitors registered in his mind, and he ran, still beating at the flames he was failing to get under control...  
  
*  
  
Giles had just sat down with a large glass of single malt and one of his new acquisitions – a treatise on the possession of _Homo_sapiens_ by malevolent spirits – when the door practically flew off its hinges and Angel powered through, out of breath.  
  
Giles set the glass down carefully, so as to be sure not to lose any of the precious amber fluid, and stood up slowly. "Angel," he spoke with barely controlled irritation. "What are you doing here?"  
  
Angel got his breath back quickly, and explained as much as he could. "Somethings... wrong. Buffy's acting like an 18th century noblewoman, and Willow doesn't know who she is. She... attacked me. When I tried to get Buffy away from her and the other..."  
  
Giles cut in, making sure he had heard what Angel said correctly. "_Willow_ attacked you? Are you sure?"  
  
Angel nodded, and continued. "She was with another. A man... or a demon. I can't decide which. He had blue skin. He was..." Angel trailed off, unsure exactly _what_ the man was.  
  
Giles looked at Angel speculatively. "Er... two things, Angel. First, what happened to your hair? And secondly, _who_the_bloody_hell_is_going_to_pay_for_my_door_!" the last was shouted at the top of his lungs at the vampire.  
  
Angel reached up and touched his head reflexively, wincing at the burns that were only just starting to heal. It would be days before his head wasn't a blistered mess, and a week or more before his hair started to grow back. Then he had the problem of putting hair-gel in without being able to see himself in a mirror...  
  
"I'll pay for the door." Angel dug in a pocket for a wad of bills. "But I'm worried about Buffy!"  
  
"You are worried about Buffy. Very commendable. So am I. I worry about Buffy all the time, when she's in class, when she goes on patrol... when she sees _you_..." Giles sarcasm was not lost on the vampire. "However, since Buffy seems to be in the capable hands of a woman who forced _you_, Angelus, to retreat in shame, I think for a while she is safe. At least, she is one of the lesser worries."  
  
He turned and picked up the book he had been reading. "Would you say that they are possessed or simply... acting strangely?"  
  
"Possessed." Angel said without hesitation.  
  
"Did you see Xander when you were out there?"  
  
Angel shook his head in the negative. "No. But I'm worried..."  
  
"... about Buffy. Yes, I know." Giles snapped. "What will the demons think of this chance to cause havoc? Will they take it?"  
  
Angel paused. "Perhaps. The more volatile ones will, but most wont. They are still too many superstitions about Halloween for them."  
  
Flicking through the book further, Giles tutted and turned a few more pages. "They were all dressed up in Halloween costumes, weren't they? Snyder forced them to guide the younger children around..."  
  
"As far as I know." Angel muttered.  
  
"Well, I suggest that we find out how they were dressed... then we can worry about more about how to fix this." Giles moved to the phone, and picked the handset out of the cradle before hitting a speed dial number.  
  
*  
  
Joyce Summers sighed as the phone rang, and hit the stop button on the video that she and Dawn were watching. "Sorry, honey," she apologised, "I'll be back in a minute."  
  
"Summers." Joyce said down the phone.  
  
...  
  
"Oh, Mr. Giles. I trust everything is alright?"  
  
...  
  
"You want to know how Buffy, Willow and Xander dressed for Halloween? May I ask why?"  
  
...  
  
"Very well... I believe Buffy went as an 18th century noblewoman. Something about Angel not liking spandex?" Joyce's tone told Giles exactly what she thought of her daughters choice of boyfriend material.  
  
...  
  
"And Xander and Willow? Um... let me ask Dawn. Some characters from Star Wars, I believe..."  
  
Joyce covered the phone, and called, "Dawn, who did Xander and Willow dress as?"  
  
Dawn bounced over to the phone, while replying, "Willow went as Mara Jade... but the Emperors Hand style. Y'know, the semi-evil one." She shrugged. "Xander was Grand Admiral Thrawn."  
  
Joyce relayed this data to Giles.  
  
...  
  
"What is a Grand Admiral Thrawn?" she frowned, "Dawn?"  
  
Dawn sounded bored as she lectured. "He's a blue skinned alien. Master tactician, and quite an art connoisseur. Given the Empires xenophobia, he was both lucky, and extremely gifted."  
  
Joyce relayed what Dawn had said, and added, "Now, tell me why you want to know."  
  
...  
  
"No, I want to... yes, alright. They bought them at a little shop that just opened. It's on the corner of fifth, near the cinema."  
  
...  
  
"What was it called? Er... Ethan's, I think. What? No! I..."  
  
...  
  
"Well, I am afraid that that is unacceptable. I am not a fool, Mr. Giles, and I do not appreciate being treated like one. I know something is strange in this town, and I want to know why my daughter is mixed up in it!"  
  
...  
  
Joyce's expression didn't so much as waver as Giles continued to speak, but her eyes hardened.  
  
...  
  
...  
  
"When this night is finished, Mr. Giles, I will expect a full explanation. From all of you. And I will _not_ be put off. Right now, I want Buffy home safely. As little as I trust 'Angel', you seem to. Don't make me feel that my faith in _you_ was misplaced. Goodnight."  
  
Joyce hung up the phone before Giles could get another word out.  
  
Dawn hugged her mother. "Everything alright, mom?"  
  
Joyce hugged her younger daughter back. "There is something very wrong in this town, Dawn... I almost wish we'd never moved here..."  
  
Dawn looked frightened for a minute. "There's something out there, isn't there, mom? And it's not just the dark..."  
  
Both mother and daughter went and sat down again, and they watched the video mechanically for a second. Neither of them was in the mood for the film any more. Dawn snuggled up to her mother on the couch, and wished that the night would be over...  
  
*  
  
Giles sighed, and hung up the phone.  
  
"Well, that was... informative."  
  
Angel paced across the room, his anxiety plainly evident. "Was that all she told you?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Just 'yes'?"  
  
"What would you prefer?" Giles asked icily. "We haven't got time for this. We know that at least fate has smiled on us a little: they are all together. The blue skinned man is Xander."  
  
Angel groaned.  
  
"I think all you can do is go back out there, and watch them from the shadows. Make sure they aren't hurt. I have..." Giles paused, and Angel could see a subtle transformation take place. "...somewhere else to be."  
  
Angel nodded, turned, and left. Giles' voice made him halt at the entranceway, and look back over his shoulder. "Yes?"  
  
Giles appeared to struggle with what he wanted to say for a moment. "Angel... I know that we haven't really gotten on: you're a vampire; soul or no soul, normally Buffy should have staked you outright. And because of what you are, I never really gave you a chance... but... it is obvious how deeply you care for Buffy. But if you ever do anything to hurt her..."  
  
Angel nodded. "I know. I would want you to." He left, and Giles turned away from the door, muttering, "Sealing spell... sealing spell..."  
  
*  
  
Ten minutes later, Giles was standing outside his destroyed door, and two spells had been cast. The first, a sealing spell, was to make the open doorway impenetrable. Not to 'anything', but it would stop just about everything short of a nuclear blast. No one would be getting in his home. The second was more subtle. So as not to advertise that the door was off, a limited glamour was over the doorframe, making it seem as if it did, indeed, have a door in it. At least from short range: a strange side effect that Giles had never been able to work out of the spell meant that at a distance it appeared as if it was brickwork.  
  
Giles nodded in satisfaction of a job well done, and walked to his car, fire in his eyes and a growl on his lips.  
  
"Ethan. You are in _big_ trouble."  
  
*  
  
One more chapter of the night itself, and then we begin to deal with the repercussions of choices made, and paths walked... Not only by the Sunnydale natives, but by their alter-egos as well.  
  
I'd appreciate it greatly if you reviewed! ;) 


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Joss, WB, UPN et al. own Buffy. George Lucas, LucasFilm, LucasArts et al. own Star Wars. Timothy Zahn owns Grand Admiral Thrawn. Squaresoft own Final Fantasy. No, this isn't a FF fic.  
  
Title: For the Good of the Empire.  
  
Author: Paradigm Shifter  
  
Feedback: Yes! YES! Please?! Love to know what you think.  
  
Rating: I'll go with PG for now. Be prepared for it to go up, though.  
  
Grateful Thanks: go to Trevelyan (Matt) and Bobby Cox. Your input and suggestions were both invaluable for this.  
  
I'd also like to thank my readers on ff.net: Harry2, Layce74, Mountain King, ms8309, Teri, John Tarstano, Invincible Sword Goddess, poet freak, rickW22, Saintsaucey, Beth, ArealMoonchild and Bolo.  
  
Individual Notes:  
  
I.S.G: Squall and Seifer are characters from Squaresoft's 'Final Fantasy VIII'. Squall is the protagonist, and Seifer is his rival. Sorry I didn't answer before. You can find more info out on www.gamefaqs.com, under PlaystationFinal Fantasy VIII.  
  
Mountain King: Could you tell me the author of this other Star Wars cross? Thanks. :)  
  
Harry2: Ultimecia was the 'big bad' of Final Fantasy 8. And yes, FF is in there. :) I think you'll be surprised by this chapter. Ethan isn't in quite as much trouble as you think. ;D  
  
Notes: A bit shorter, but I couldn't resist the ending. :)

  
  
"I recognise him!" Mara pointed to a car as it went past, indicating the occupant. The trio were standing in shadows by the side of the road, and apparently hadn't been seen. Buffy the noblewoman had fallen apart as the car went past, screaming something about 'demons', which Mara had quickly ended by reinstating her Force induced silence. Now she was half-heartedly fending off Buffy's attempts to beat her with her fists. It mattered little whether she did or didn't, they didn't hurt a great deal as she plainly didn't know how to hit. Each blow was an ineffectual tap. Fortunately, because the noblewoman thought she was physically weak, she did not use her Slayer strength: which would have hurt a lot. She was unaware of the ability, and so it didn't work properly. The 'slayer senses' however, were completely a function of her subconscious and still worked. Which was why Angel had freaked her out so badly.  
  
Thrawn nodded, willing to accept Mara's announcement until he had proof otherwise. "So follow him."  
  
Mara nodded, and took off after the car, using the Force to enhance her speed to the point where she could keep up with it comfortably. Thrawn grabbed Buffy, and followed more slowly.   
  
Spike screamed in pain as the spirit entered his mind. It was worse than anything he had ever put the Slayers he had tortured through: it was rape of the most brutal kind, occurring completely within his own mind. Finally he stopped screaming, and merely lay on the ground panting in fear and horror at what had just happened.  
  
He couldn't believe it: he, the great Spike – William the Bloody – had been turned into the willing puppet of an evil more calculating, more vile than he could ever be.  
  
He was almost jealous. Almost. But if you had to be that to be that evil, he'd give up on the spot and become a monk. Some things just weren't done. Not even by vampires.  
  
Seifer sneered down at him, his eyes radiating disgust and loathing. "Now you learn what it is to be a puppet. I have my dreams, but yours: your dreams matter little to me. I don't care for what you wish... I care only that my mistress gains the power she deserves!"  
  
Spike whimpered as he stared up at the cause of his torment.  
  
He could think of only one thing at this moment: he wished he was dead.   
  
Drusilla moaned as something primal tore through the stars.  
  
"Oh... my little Spikey has all gone. Now dancing to the tune of a different mistress, by a painful and sadistic master..." she hugged Miss Edith tightly, causing the doll to bulge from the pressure. "I've lost my precious boy! I've lost him!"  
  
She broke down into tears, and one of the two vampires that Spike had ordered to guard her nudged, and then whispered to the other, "She's finally cracked, man."  
  
His companion remained silent. He had seen Drusilla's fits of sanity and insanity. He had no desire to give her any reason to attack him.  
  
Drusilla continued to wail, rocking backwards and forwards. Her eyes were open wide: fixed on a point only she could see. "The stars... the stars call to me... the Corrupt Knight has taken my Spike... my Spike... my Spike..." she flung Miss Edith at her vampire guardians in a fit of rage. "And there is nothing that the Blue Leader can do about it! The Slayer! The Slayer! She will meet her doom at the hands of the Mistress!"  
  
The two guards watched in awestruck terror and fascination as the Vampire Seer writhed around. They couldn't tell whether it was agony or ecstasy or a combination of the two... with Drusilla, it could have been anything.   
  
"The Mistress! The Lady of Darkness! The Sorceress! The Hyne incarnate! Noooooo!"  
  
Finally, she lapsed into heartrending, terrible sobs.   
  
"Ethan! Ethan!" Giles stalked through the doorway of the costume shop, his mild-mannered Watcher persona completely missing. This was Rippers time. "Ethan! I know you're here you bloody tosser! Come out and show me you aren't the rat bastard you were years ago!"  
  
He walked through a doorway, and turned at the sound of movement.  
  
"Ethan!"  
  
His declaration was met by an evil smirk and a cricket bat. The wooden implement collided with his skull, and Giles folded to the floor as consciousness left him.  
  
Ethan grinned down at the unconscious form of the Watcher. "Well, me old China... looks like inn't the same old Ethan you knew all those years ago..." He kicked him for good measure, and dropped the bat to the floor.  
  
Bending down to grip Giles by the shoulders, he dragged him out of the doorway and deeper into the store. "Urgh! What have you been doing, old boy?" Ethan asked the unconscious figure, "I swear you must have put on about forty pounds!"  
  
A collected female voice spoke from behind him. "I think you'll just leave him there, won't you?"  
  
Ethan dropped Giles shoulders, causing his head to hit the floor again, and straightened slowly as he turned. The little redhead he had served with the Slayer: it was her.  
  
"Hello, hon," Ethan greeted. "Not happy with the costume? Want a refund? Well, come back tomorrow, and I'll get it all sorted!"  
  
"This isn't a costume." Mara stated. "I want to know what is going on. Who you are. Those are good questions. And you will be answering them. Through your own will, or through pain. Either is fine with me."  
  
Mara looked at Ethan for a second. "Actually... resist! Please. I've been dying for a chance to try out a new trick the Emperor taught me."  
  
Ethan backed up slowly. "I... I can explain... it's just a joke. Really! I wanted to..." he ground his teeth. "Aw... Hell." He turned and fled.  
  
"Going somewhere?" Angel asked as he stepped into the doorway to the alley just before Ethan reached it.  
  
"Vampire!" Ethan shouted, "you may not enter! And while you can't, you can't get me! See!" His fear at being trapped was quickly turning to terror.  
  
Mara chuckled. "He doesn't need to come in. He just needs to keep you from getting out."  
  
Angel nodded. "That's right." His solemn face turned into an angry glare. "Now... tell us how to break this spell."  
  
Ethan backed up into the plinth that the statue of Janus was on, and it rocked as he knocked into it. "I... I have no idea what you're talking about."  
  
Mara didn't turn from watching Ethan as Thrawn entered behind her, dragging the distraught Noble lady with him. "Sure you do: we want to know how we got here... and you seem too frightened to not know what is going on." He looked down at the unconscious form of Giles. "Get too much for you?" he asked Jade curiously.  
  
Mara rolled her eyes, aware that her back was to the Admiral and that he wouldn't be able to see it. "He was like that when I arrived. Honest."  
  
"Honest? You? Since when?" Thrawn sniped back.  
  
Angel snarled, "are you two quite finished? We have a situation here!"  
  
Both Mara and Thrawn looked at him. "Shut up."  
  
Thrawn stepped forward, blaster drawn. "You will tell us what you have done. I have a vague memory of this place... it's faint, but its there. You were the cause of this."  
  
Ethan eyes the blaster. "You shoot me, and you will never learn how to undo the spell."  
  
Thrawn nodded. "Oh, that's right. I forgot. Jade?"  
  
Mara fired. Her blaster was no longer on stun, and the blast tore into Ethan's leg with a whine and roasting smell of charred flesh. Buffy leapt backwards and cowered in the corner next to the body of Giles at the sudden unexpected noise. Her nose wrinkled at the smell, but she refrained from complaining, not wishing a similar fate.  
  
Ethan screamed as he dropped to the floor clutching his leg.  
  
Angel battered against the invisible field keeping him out of the building. "Stop the bleeding! If he dies we'll never break the spell!" he shouted, before realising that he couldn't smell blood. Only charred flesh.  
  
Mara looked at the vampire. "Hello? Reality check? Cauterises on wounding?"  
  
Thrawn kneeled next to the injured Ethan, and grabbed him by the throat, hauling him upright. "Now. Tell use how to get home."  
  
Ethan was in too much pain to think about lying or acting innocent. "The... the bust." He whimpered, "Smash the bust."  
  
Thrawn seemed to freeze for a second. "But... it's art..." he said with a strange tone. There was a subtext there that no one could read.  
  
"So?" asked Mara nonchalantly, and shot the bust.  
  
The next ten seconds, would be ones that Angel remembered for the rest of his days: living or dead. 

Review? Thanks. :)


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Joss, WB, UPN et al. own Buffy. George Lucas, LucasFilm, LucasArts et al. own Star Wars. Timothy Zahn owns Grand Admiral Thrawn. Squaresoft own Final Fantasy. No, this isn't a FF fic.  
  
Title: For the Good of the Empire.  
  
Author: Paradigm Shifter  
  
Feedback: Yes! YES! Please?! Love to know what you think.  
  
Rating: I'll go with PG for now. Be prepared for it to go up, though.  
  
Grateful Thanks: Are sent in the direction of Teri, Trevelyan and Bobby Cox. More than anything else, though, that this is continuing at all is entirely due to Asbjoern. If it wasn't for his comments on this - and how I could get around where it had headed, this wouldn't be out now. Indeed, it would likely be quite a while before I worked up enthusiasm again.  
  
So thank Asbjoern for this. And the way this chapter ends, too. ;-)  
  
Written To: 'Burning From The Inside', Bauhaus.

* * *

Each person in the room would have different views of what happened in those ten seconds:  
  
Angel, standing in the doorway was able to duck away from the blast; it merely gave his demon a happy surge of power: he vamped out involuntarily, his back fixed tightly to the wall as he fought within himself to regain control. He wasn't sure what happened, but at that moment, he didn't care... only beating back the beast was worthy of consideration.  
  
Buffy felt the presence within her leave: her Slayer abilities charging to the fore in an attempt to protect her from the magical barrage that pounded her senses and assaulted her mind. But at the same time, there was emptiness: where the Noble had been was a void... and Buffy felt as if something was missing.  
  
Ethan screamed as the Will of Janus beat against his mind. He would pay the price for the failure of his spell: Janus had been invoked for the night, and his early and abrupt departure had made the God far from happy.  
  
Giles, as unconscious as he was, groaned as the surge rolled over him.  
  
Mara, standing facing the bust as the power surge exploded out of it, caught it full in the face, and was sent flying possessed and possessor separating from each other in mid air. Each felt the confusion of the other, and Mara sneered at the weak power evident in what had been her body. She landed in a painful heap on a crate, smashing it to pieces, and continuing into the wall where finally she stopped. A low groan could be heard from the mess of splintered wood.  
  
Thrawn, while not thrown as violently as Mara, crashed into the wall behind him and slid down, a smear of red marking where his head had impacted the wall and moved down. His red eyes closed slowly as the pain took control. The last thing he saw was the melted bust of Janus slowly dripping off the pedestal in cooling drops of stone.

* * *

Spike felt something change as his tormentor staggered suddenly. Seifer collapsed to the ground, holding his head and moaning in pain, before looking up and meeting Spikes gaze.  
  
Spike knew at that moment that his tormentor was now within his power. And he had a lot to make up for.  
  
Gripping the boys blond hair, he dragged him down the street. "Come with me," he growled, "I've got someone you might like to meet, yourself..."  
  
Spike couldn't wait to see what Dru made of his new toy.  
  
As long as she didn't kill him, his revenge would be most enjoyable.  
  
Even the shadow that had been in his mind since that apparition merged with him was gone.  
  
Now, he only needed his arm back, and it would be like nothing ever happened...  
  
Jonathon screamed in fear as the blond vampire punched him in the face. Falling backwards, he slowly regained his feet before dropping to the road again as Spike kneed him in the groin.  
  
"That hurts, doesn't it?" Spike whispered in the boy's ear. "Well, it'll hurt a whole lot more in a little while..."  
  
Jonathon was knocked unconscious as Spike gripped his hair and beat his head repeatedly into the tarmac, before dragging the now still teen off to the warehouse:  
  
and Drusilla.

* * *

Angel stepped back through the doorway, and the first thing he noticed was the smell.  
  
Blood.  
  
Someone, or multiple someone's, were bleeding. He looked around saw the red streak on the wall above Xander's head. The demon rejoiced at seeing his competitor injured, screamed at him to finish it. Fighting down the urge, Angel moved over to the unconscious boy and checked his head. Nothing seemed to be broken, and the blood flow as already slowing down: as profusely as capillary wounds bled, they also healed more quickly than other wounds. It was already close to closing up, as long as Xander didn't open it up again, he would escape with just a concussion as a reminder not to meet brickwork head first.  
  
Moving over to Giles, he saw Buffy. Everything else flew out the window as he saw his love unconscious. He knelt by her side and gently stroked her head. She groaned, and started to come round.  
  
The first word out of Buffy's mouth as consciousness returned and she realised her boyfriend cradled her in his arms was, "Angel?"  
  
The vampire nodded his game face still on, but the yellow gleam in his eyes was weaker than it had been the evening before. Buffy groaned and shifted her weight, allowing her to see the prone form of Giles lying on the floor. She bolted upright. "Giles!"  
  
Angel let her go, and Buffy sank down next to Giles, crying softly. "Don't be dead... please don't be dead... don't..."  
  
Taking her back up into his arms, Angel hugged her tightly. "He's not dead, Buffy. I can feel his heartbeat from here. He's just unconscious. We really need to get him to a hospital..."  
  
Willow's shaky voice cut in. "Angel's right, Buffy. Ethan hit him with a cricket bat pretty hard."  
  
Buffy turned round. "Willow!"  
  
Willow just groaned. "Yes, Buffy?"  
  
"Willow? Where are you?" Buffy looked round the room, but couldn't see anything. "Willow?"  
  
"I'm over here, Buffy. In the wreckage of the crate." Willow raised a hand, and began to stand up. Reaching her feet, she turned to Buffy and smiled nervously. "Hi."  
  
Buffy gasped, and Angel paled as they looked at the redhead. She was deathly pale, her skin had taken on a slightly grey tint and her eyes had lost the bright humour that they used to contain: the green orbs were dull with fatigue. She cradled her right arm, as if afraid to move it, and had most of her weight on her left leg.  
  
"How's Xander?" Willow asked.  
  
Angel looked at the still unconscious boy. "He'll live." Willow nodded, and tried to take a step forward out of the crate wreck.  
  
Willow's leg gave out on her almost as soon as she stood on it, Buffy moving forward to catch her before she could fall completely. "We need to get you and Giles to the hospital, Will."  
  
Willow couldn't disagree. She nodded unevenly as she passed out.  
  
Buffy turned to Angel. "Angel, get Giles to the hospital. I'll get Willow."  
  
Angel cast a look at Xander. "What about him?"  
  
Buffy looked at Xander's unconscious form. "Damn. We can't leave him here..."  
  
"We could take him to the hospital as well."  
  
Buffy shook her head. "No. He hates hospitals. He'd walk out as soon as he was conscious."  
  
Angel frowned. How did Buffy know something like that? She answered his questioning frown. "Willow told me. He's hated hospitals since he was younger. Like, five, or something."  
  
"I think he needs to be checked out. He hit his head pretty hard."  
  
Buffy sighed, but nodded agreement. "OK. Alright. Fine. Can you get Giles and Xander?" Angel nodded, and the two of them picked up their unconscious passengers, and headed out.

* * *

"Miss?"  
  
Buffy looked up from her musing, to see a doctor standing in front of here with a tired expression. His surgical scrubs showed that he had been operating all morning.  
  
"Yeah, doc?" Buffy asked, covering a yawn with one hand.  
  
"Are you the next of kin of Willow Rosenberg, Alexander Harris, or Rupert Giles?"  
  
"No, I'm not. But I'm friends with Wills and Xand, and Giles is librarian at my school. What's up, doc?" Her small smile at her humour slid from her face at the blank expression of the doctor. "Heard it before, huh?"  
  
He acted as if she had never spoken. "Mr. Giles will be in hospital for some time, I'm afraid... whatever it was that hit him on the head cracked his skull quite badly. We want to be sure that he's alright before we release him."  
  
"And Wills and Xand?"  
  
"Mr. Harris will be alright... but his greasepaint seems to refuse to come off... it might have some sort of special solvent, which we presume he may have some of, at home."  
  
Buffy ground her teeth. "And Wills?"  
  
"Ms. Rosenberg has sustained some second degree burns, a broken femur and a fractured – but not broken – collarbone. She will be here for a few more days at least – we want to make sure that her burns are healing correctly."  
  
Buffy shook her head. How was she going to deal with the fallout of this night, when three of the people she needed were in the hospital? Angel had retreated to his mansion two hours ago, when it was getting so close to sunrise he was almost stranded at the hospital anyway. Buffy hadn't been able to get through to her mother: the phone returned a busy signal, whether that was because Joyce or Dawn was using it, or because it was off the hook, Buffy didn't know. All she knew was that there was no answer.  
  
She looked back up at the doctor. "Can I go see them, doc?"  
  
The doctor nodded. "Certainly. Mr. Harris is in room 221, Mr. Giles in 222 and Ms. Rosenberg in 223. I just thought you might like to know that there were no... complications..." Even though Sunnydale as a community wouldn't admit it, Buffy knew he was referring to the regular mysterious loss of blood that people brought to the hospital had.  
  
Buffy nodded her thanks, and walked away to the rooms, her Halloween gown swishing along the polished floor as she walked.

* * *

Xander groaned as he shifted. He rolled over, only to be met by a metal bar that stopped him from rolling off the bed he found himself on.  
  
Then he sat up.  
  
"I'm in a hospital." Xander looked around. "Damn. I'm in a hospital." He swung his legs off the bed, and stood up, before crouching in pain as his head swam.  
  
"Woah." His face held in his hands, he could hear a voice through the wall. Buffy's voice.  
  
"Willow... you've got to be alright. Come on. You can't do this to me. To us... to Xander."  
  
"Wills?" Xander whispered to himself. "What happened? What happened to us? I... I don't..."  
  
He straightened. "Oh God, I do!" He sat heavily on the chair next to the bed he should have been in. "I remember..."  
  
He leaned his head against the wall, expecting a sting as his cut contacted with the cold tile. It didn't do so much as tingle.  
  
Then he noticed his hands. "Why didn't they wash the greasepaint off?"  
  
The open door looked so inviting.  
  
"I don't want to be here."  
  
Stepping toward the door, almost in a trance, Xander walked out of the hospital. No one tried to stop him...  
  
It's called the Sunnydale Syndrome.

* * *

After seeing Willow, Buffy headed into Giles room. Which meant she wasn't there when Willow woke up.  
  
"Xander?" Willow muttered groggily, before she realised she could remember. "Oh, that's bad."  
  
She could remember Mara Jade... the woman who had been an assassin and enforcer for one of the most evil and hated men ever to be born. 'Um... imagined,' she corrected herself mentally, 'Palpatine doesn't exist!'  
  
Something spoke inside her, a darker part of her memories: she couldn't just remember what had happened that last night... she could remember Mara's whole life, up to a certain point. Her style of dress and intention of acting like the Emperor's Hand would have done – rather than the Mara that existed later – had meant that the Mara she became was that Mara. Mara Jade, up to that point in her life. And the memories were not pleasant.  
  
Palpatine did exist... in her memories, and in her mind, to a degree. She had not had the connection to him here, that she had had back in her real galaxy, but that did not mean that he did not exist.  
  
Trying to sit up, Willow found she couldn't. Then she remembered something else: the aftermath of her foolish attack on the Bust. It had worked, but ouch!  
  
Willow took a deep breath, and closed her eyes.  
  
Then she opened them again. "Huh... odd." She shrugged as best she could, given that both her shoulders were in a cast, and closed her eyes once more.  
  
...  
  
Again, they slammed open. "OK, this is... cool. In a 'what the?' kind of way..."  
  
Willow went through a few memories of Mara, and found what she was looking for. "Oh, right. I... wow. I can still touch the Force. Wow."  
  
She looked around the room, before speaking to the pot plant on the table next to her bed. "Did I mention, wow?"  
  
She grinned as the air conditioning kicked in, and the plants leaves waved an affirmative in the updraft.  
  
"Cool. Even the plants agree with me."  
  
Feeling suddenly tired, Willow sighed a breath out slowly, and without thinking about what she was doing, sunk into a Healing Trance.

* * *

When Buffy got to Xander's room – 221 – she walked in, ready to breath fire, and stopped dead. Taking three steps back, she exited the room and checked the number, before frowning and walking back inside. Looking around, she shut the door behind her and looked behind it suspiciously. Then she checked in the small wardrobe – barely big enough to fit in for her, but Xander might have been playing tricks.  
  
Buffy snapped an order to the empty room. "Xander, come out from where you're hiding right the hell now!"  
  
It wouldn't do any good.  
  
Xander wasn't there.

* * *

Buffy pushed open the front door to her house slowly, her arms aching from the effort it took just to move them. Closing it quietly behind her, she hoped that her mother was asleep.  
  
No such luck.  
  
Joyce descended on her daughter, practically breathing fire and steaming at the ears. "And what do you call this time, young lady?!"  
  
Buffy blinked at her, tired eyes not fully comprehending what was happening. "Not now, mom."  
  
Joyce stopped deadly still at being told what to do by her daughter. "Oh, no! You're not getting out of explain this that easily! Where have you been? What happened? Why did I get a call from your school Librarian at Ten O'clock yesterday? Why have you been gone all night?"  
  
Buffy's tired mind only caught the first of the rapid-fire questions. "I've been down the hospital, mom."  
  
That brought Joyce up short. "You weren't hurt, were you?"  
  
Buffy sank tiredly into the couch, her hired dress had long since begun to irritate, but she couldn't do much about it in the hospital. "No, mom. I wasn't. Willow was. And Giles. And Xander."  
  
"I expect your Mr. Giles to explain what happened tonight. I want to know. This was completely unacceptable: Mr. Snyder will be getting a letter of complaint from me about his organisational capability."  
  
"Don't make waves, mom." Buffy snuggled deeper into the couch. "It'll only get him more antagonistic."  
  
"Well, someone must be made aware of what goes on in this town! This is not normal!"  
  
Buffy was getting tired of this. "Then write to the Mayor." She snapped, "I'll come visit you in the Mental Institute. Promise."  
  
Joyce sighed. She realised that she wasn't going to get much more out of Buffy. Her daughter was almost as stubborn as she herself was. She just hoped that Mr. Giles wasn't quite so pig-headed. She sat down next to Buffy. "So... tell me what happened to Willow and Xander."  
  
"Wills has got some pretty bad burns and Xander... I dunno. He was out cold, but he's gone missing from the hospital. They're hunting for him now. I was beginning to get on their nerves, I think. One of the doctors told me to go home and get some rest, or he'd sedate me. I took the hint."  
  
"Do you have any idea where he might have gone?"  
  
Buffy shook her head. "Nope. Not one. I suppose Wills would know better than me... I mean, she's been his friend since, like, forever!"  
  
Joyce smiled slightly, before shrugging. "Well, I suspect that anything further will have to wait for a later date. Go to bed, honey, you look dead on your feet."  
  
Buffy got up tiredly, and walked like a zombie up the stairs to her room. "Thanks, mom."  
  
She was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

* * *

Willow awoke to a doctor standing over her, scribbling furiously on a clipboard, his face screwed up in concentration. He apparently hadn't noticed her wake, because he jumped when she spoke.  
  
"That bad, Doc?"  
  
"Oh! Oh, Ms. Rosenberg. You gave me a start." He hung the clipboard back on the end of the bed, and reached for her arm to check her pulse. "You do realise that there must have been some sort of error when you were brought in, yes?"  
  
Willow maintained a carefully blank expression. "Gee, Doc, I dunno. I was kinda... unconscious, wasn't I?"  
  
The Doctor nodded absently as he released her wrist and plucked a penlight out of the breast pocket of his white coat to test her pupil responses. Willow blinked and looked away as the light did its job, and the doctor clucked at her before testing the other. "Second degree burns do not heal overnight. And when the nurse changed your dressings this morning, it was as if you had never been hurt. We ran you down to X-ray, to see if your collarbone had healed as quickly, and it is like it was never broken. Now, whatever happened is quite incredible! We must run some tests on you, and I am sure that several of my colleagues would like to see this... this simply astounding case, but... I am quite confident that we can let you be released tomorrow, the next day at the latest."  
  
Mara's personality slipped through for a second. "Am I, or am I not healed, Doc?"  
  
"You are in perfect health, my dear, but I am afraid that alone is not good enough – we must decide how this miraculous healing occurred!"  
  
Willow didn't feel all that enamoured of being a lab rat for however long they wanted to keep her here. "What would you say, Doc, if I said the words, 'Gangs on PCP'? Ring any bells?"  
  
The change was dramatic. It was – as the doctor had described before – astounding. He backed away hurriedly, grabbed the clipboard like a defence against the dark, scribbled a quick note on it, and was out the door before Willow had time to blink. Willow just had the chance to catch a choked, "You can sign out when you feel ready!" before he vanished completely.  
  
Willow swung her legs off the bed, and stood up. Unconsciously, she was adopting the pose she had worn all of the previous night: the swayed hips, the hand resting within easy distance of her thigh mounted blaster – if she had been wearing it, of course – and the tilted head with a half smirk that told anybody willing to listen that she found the world one tremendous joke: and it was funny.  
  
She ran a hand through her mid-back length hair. "First order of the day: get a haircut." Willow caught a glance of herself in the mirror. Her reflection had changed since the last time she had seen it: it wasn't just the confidence... Mara had had a physical effect on her as well as a mental one. She licked her lips subconsciously. The she saw the hospital gown she was standing in.  
  
"Oh, Force! If the Emperor could see me now, I'd never live it down!"  
  
Willow shuddered slightly as those words came out of her mouth. The Emperor didn't exist dammit!

* * *

Giles woke up two days later, and the hospital discharged him the next day. He walked out into the sunlight wearing a pair of completely black sunglasses – the only thing to show that he had visited the hospital at all; except for the large prescription for painkillers he had been given. The sunglasses were a nod to the fact that he had had a concussion: Giles wasn't still completely comfortable in bright light, it gave him severe headaches. Nothing to worry about, though... the Doctors said it would go away in a few days, maybe a week, and then he would be as good as new.  
  
While Giles knew that he healed faster than normal as a result of his misguided youth, he refused to push himself further than recommended for once. He had been very lucky that Ethan's little trick hadn't cracked his skull in a rather more terminal fashion and sent his brain oozing across the floor.  
  
He hailed a taxi and tried not to doze off as he was taken home.

* * *

Xander stood staring at the stone work.  
  
"Not been here for a while, have I, buddy?" he asked with a self deprecating grin. "I didn't forget about you, y'know... it was just... I was... just..."  
  
He trailed off as the stone remained as still and as silent as it always was, and always would be. Xander sighed, defeated. Jesse now had the ultimate poker face: it didn't matter how hard he tried, even if he could lie to himself, he couldn't lie to the small stone that was all he had to 'see' Jesse. It was like a lie detector, but without the side-effects of sodium pentathol.  
  
"OK, I can't tell a lie to you, Jess... I forgot. I'm sorry." Xander swallowed a lump. "But I need help. I'm in trouble, Jess... trouble I can't get out of on my own. I don't know what to do..."  
  
"I don't know what to do..."  
  
A firm voice in the back of his head spoke to him. "I do."

* * *

Review, please! :-) 


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: Joss, WB, UPN et al. own Buffy. George Lucas, LucasFilm, LucasArts et al. own Star Wars. Timothy Zahn owns Grand Admiral Thrawn.  
Squaresoft own Final Fantasy. No, this isn't a FF fic.  
  
Title: For the Good of the Empire.  
  
Author: Paradigm Shifter  
  
Feedback: Yes! YES! Please?! Love to know what you think.  
  
Rating: I'll go with PG for now. Be prepared for it to go up, though.  
  
Grateful Thanks: Asbjoern, Bobby Cox, Teri, and Trevelyan.  
  
Written To: Continuing the Dark Streak of listening matter, 'Press Eject and Give Me the Tape', Bauhaus.

* * *

Jonathon regained consciousness with a groan.  
  
"He's awake, Spikey!" Drusilla giggled, "He's awake!"  
  
"Good." Spike crowed, "It'll be nice to get in some practice for that Slayer and her bunch of white hats."  
  
Jonathon hissed as Dru drew a fingernail down his bare chest, drawing a line of blood that extended from his neck to abdomen. Then the hiss became a tortured scream as she gripped and squeezed. Hard.  
  
Spike drew her away gently, before landing a thundering blow in Jonathon's gut. The teen dry retched from the blow - he didn't have enough left in his stomach after the last 'session' to vomit properly.  
  
Dru cooed at the enflamed vampire. "Go easy on him, Spikey. We don't want him hurt."  
  
Jonathon whimpered, but finally decided to speak. "H... hu... hurt? You don't call... call what you were do... doing... pain. Then?"  
  
Drusilla stepped up close to the naked teen, rubbing her body over his, smearing his blood over her skin. "Oh, no I don't, puppy... my precious puppy... I call that 'fun'!" She bounced away primly.  
  
Spike guffawed at Dru's antics, and taking Jonathon's jaw in his one hand, tilted his head around thoughtfully.  
  
"Had enough?"  
  
Jonathon nodded.  
  
Spike tutted. "No fibre, kids there days. Honestly... I remember when I first started torturing people... now there was a time when you could go for hours and the stupid bastards would still be defiant. But you.  
you're nothing. Almost worthless, if it wasn't for what you did to me earlier." Spike looked pointedly at the forearm and hand now on the table in the room: the one Jonathon had cut off earlier during his possession. "You have any idea how hard it's gonna be to get that thing back on?"  
  
"Can't say I care..." Jonathon mumbled.  
  
Spike shrugged, stepped back and slugged Jonathon hard in the face. "Oh well... nighty night."

* * *

A presence floated in a void - halfway between its own realm, and the one it had been free in for that time. Such a short time... and so much power there. So much power. Free power, ripe for the taking.  
  
It had to return.  
  
And it had a way.  
  
Ultimecia retook control of her Knight once more.  
  
The vampire? He could wait. Ultimecia was sure that an opportunity would present itself soon enough.

* * *

Jonathon screamed in pleasure, rather than pain this time. Ultimecia tore through his mind - ravaged as it was by Spike and Drusilla's torture, he was open and unresisting as she did what she wanted.  
  
Seconds later, Jonathon - or as he had been known - was no more.  
  
Now, it was just Ultimecia.  
  
"A male Sorceress... a Sorcerer." Jonathon's arms tore out of the shackles he was bound into, and he floated slowly to the floor, his dyed blond hair - dyed for his Halloween costume - darkening first to brown, and then to black as it lengthened. "More powerful... more able... more. More."  
  
With a flick of his - or would that be her? - wrist, the wall of the factory exploded outwards and Jonathon floated out slowly, bottomless eyes taking in everything.  
  
"This is my world now..."

* * *

"It won't come off..."  
  
"Why do you want it to? It is part of me. Part of us."  
  
"You're just a figment of someone's imagination! You're not really real!"  
  
"Am I not? Then how do you explain my being here?"  
  
The voice - the voice of the Admiral - got quieter and quieter as the week wore on. It wasn't that he faded away. No.  
  
It was that he slowly - spreading almost like a disease - became part of Xander's psyche. As the week wore on, Xander thought more like Thrawn. It wasn't taking over, it was just a mutual agreement: Xander helped Thrawn adapt, and Thrawn helped teach Xander to survive. He was good enough to survive, but Thrawn taught him new ways to survive... Buffy might not approve, but sure as the Jade was the Hand of the Emperor, Xander didn't care if it kept him or his friends alive that bit longer.  
  
Xander shrunk in on himself as he thought. Thrawn's mental voice brought him out of his reverie; "What, if anything, do you suppose demons have for art?"

* * *

Xander sat in the library, waiting for his friends to walk in and find him.Watching from the sidelines - always in the shadows, never being seen - for the past week had been an interesting experience for him. Everyone seemed to have returned to normal. His parents were either unaware or uncaring that he was 'missing', indeed, the only person who seemed to care - if you could call what he did 'caring' - was Snyder. And he wanted to expel Xander for unauthorised absence. Willow seemed to be almost relaxed when he saw her: as if she knew he was alright. He thought that she might have given a surreptitious wink to him a few times as he watched, but he shook it off as his eyes playing tricks on his brain. Buffy and Giles both seemed to be more concerned by the backlash that their necessary 'explanations' to Joyce would have, and Angel was... well, Angel. You couldn't term the relationship between Angel and Xander in easy words... the best way to describe it was that each despised the other, both with equal vehemence - just for different reasons.  
  
Besides, Xander had more important things to worry about. Some rather important things to worry about.  
  
Buffy burst through the swing doors; almost leaving permanent indents on the walls behind them she hit them open so hard. Willow and Giles followed her, although slower, and with a pair of dark glasses on in the case of Giles.  
His concussion might not have been as bad as it could have been, but it had still left him with oversensitivity for light. The doctors said it would go away in a few days, perhaps a week, but for Giles, it couldn't be fast enough. He detested having to wear 'shades'.  
  
The three stopped dead as they saw Xander - or who Buffy assumed to be Xander. It was kind of hard to tell, given that he was wearing gloves over his hands, and a paper bag over his head, with two eyeholes cut out so he could see. In fact, he had no skin visible at all.  
  
Buffy frowned at him, a palpable disapproval of his chosen attire. "Why are you dressed like that?!" She demanded, before her tone rose into a near screech, "Take that bag off at once!"  
  
Xander stood slowly, and walked to the door of Giles office, the printed word 'Librarian' plainly visible on the frosted glass. He opened it, before stepping through and closing it behind him. Just before it closed, Xander said one word: "No."  
  
Buffy looked shocked at Giles and Willow for a second, before storming over to the door and kicking it in. This provoked a half-hearted protest from Giles - half-hearted because of his headache - and a disinterested sigh from Willow as the door burst inward on its hinges.  
  
The door had almost shut again under its own power when Buffy came tripping up out of it. She landed in a heap on the floor in front of the two observers, before leaping to her feet eyes flashing. Giles took a nervous step back - when Buffy got this mad, he knew to avoid antagonising her if at all possible - and Willow grinned. She knew what had happened... or at least she had a good idea.  
  
As Buffy got to her feet, ready to charge in again, Xander came stalking out. Even as covered as he was, Buffy and Willow could tell he was far from impressed, and very close to blowing a head gasket.  
  
He gripped the paper bag with his gloved left hand, and yanked it off his head.  
  
Buffy and Giles gasped, Willow just nodded, her suspicions confirmed.  
  
Xander turned angry eyes on the Slayer. "Happy now?" he demanded with a fair degree of venom in his voice.  
  
"Xander... you're..." Buffy couldn't quite say it. She didn't think it was possible. It was incredible. It was... well, incredible.  
  
"Incredible..." Giles murmured to himself, already his mind was working on how this could have happened.  
  
Willow stepped up to Xander and ran a finger along his jaw line. "I take it that they couldn't wash this off?"  
  
Xander stepped back from the contact, and ignored the hurt that flashed in Willow's eyes. "That's right. And neither can I."  
  
He turned and fixed first Giles, and then Buffy with a withering glare. "The first person to so much as mention the Smurfs is going to get gutshot and left for vampires. Spread the word."  
  
He turned and stalked out, pulling the paper bag back over his head as he went.  
  
The dramatic exit didn't last for long however, as Buffy took two steps forward, and gripped his shoulder. Not hard, but strongly enough to stop him from escaping unless he got violent.  
  
Which he wouldn't do. No matter how angry he got, Xander wouldn't hit one of 'his girls'. No way, no how.  
  
"You wanted something, Buffy?" Xander's tone wasn't angry, merely dispassionately interested.  
  
"Can you explain to us... to me? What happened, Xander? Why are you blue?"  
Buffy couldn't keep a half awed, half giggle out of her voice.  
  
"I think it's obvious, but I'll tell you." Xander moved - reluctantly - back into the library and sat down, looking at the three other Scoobies with a raised eyebrow. "Well?"  
  
Willow walked over to him, and Xander couldn't help but notice how she had changed too. Xander was suddenly acutely aware that the girl he thought of as a younger sister was a fox. "Well... I guess you can remember my shooting the Bust of Janus, yeah?"  
  
"Yes, I remember that. I remember most of it, as a matter of fact. A few things are a little hazy... but I'm sure they will come back in time."  
  
"Well, shooting it probably wasn't the best idea... the surge of power running through the Bust - the focus of the spell - caused it to explode. I guess the focus couldn't take the extra power being pumped into it by the blaster bolt."  
  
"OK," Xander nodded, "so no blastering magical items in future. That still doesn't explain why I'm blue, Jad... Willow."  
  
"I'm getting to that," Willow snapped in a very Mara like way, then blushed to the roots of her hair. "Sorry."  
  
"It's OK. It's not like I've never been on the receiving end of your red-headed temper before." Xander smiled slightly, and the harshness in his now slightly red tinted brown eyes softened.  
  
"The surge made the effect of the spell on those closest to the blast permanent."  
  
"So I'm... what? I'm going to be blue for the rest of my life?" Xander already knew the answer, he just wanted someone else to tell him. To back him up.  
  
Willow looked massively apologetic. "Yeah. I'm sorry."  
  
Buffy looked confused. "Hang on... why did Willow do the explaining, when I asked Xander to? And if the spell was permanent because we were near it, why aren't I still jumping at..." she trailed off, thoroughly embarrassed to have been frightened of cars, street lights, and her boyfriend.  
  
"...cars?" Willow finished for her, an almost sadistic grin reaching her lips.  
  
Buffy looked daggers at the red-head, who was completely unconcerned. Then she blushed deeply as she saw Giles disbelieving stare.  
  
"You were scared of a car?" Giles asked incredulously, "how on earth could you be scared of a car?"  
  
Buffy dropped her gaze. "Well... I went as an 18th century noblewoman... you know... to impress Angel. I guess. Anyway... they were all brought up to be trophy wives. The high born ones, anyway. About the only strenuous thing they ever did was do embroidery." Buffy looked even more embarrassed now. "I used to suck at needlework... and now I could sew the Bayeux Tapestry without too much trouble."  
  
Giles eyes boggled at this revelation. "That's over two hundred and thirty feet long, Buffy!"  
  
"Yeah. I know." She blushed again. "Trust me, I know."  
  
"And I can still touch the Force." Willow dropped the bomb on the group. She hadn't told Buffy or Giles before now, waiting for Xander to be present too.  
  
Xander smiled. "That is why you never seemed worried I was missing. You knew where I was."  
  
"Exactly." Willow smiled back at him.  
  
"So. What do you plan to do? I mean, I've got no hope of living away from Sunnydale now... other than a freak. I doubt even Sunnydale Syndrome will help me that much."  
  
"Sunnydale Syndrome?" Buffy asked confused.  
  
Xander shrugged. "It's what I've decided to term the complete and total disregard for anything strange that goes on here, Buffy. Who knows, maybe I could get a paper published in the Lancet?" His voice was teasing.  
  
Buffy teased right back. "Who knows, maybe you could!" If she teased him, she didn't have to focus on the fact that he now had a far more obvious mark of his fight against the darkness than she did. Her strength she could cover up by being careful. Her superhuman senses she could ignore; even if she couldn't go in loud clubs like she had in LA before her calling. She could hide - Xander, from the moment he started helping her, although it took a while for it to become obvious, was now marked a fighter - marked a warrior by the misfortune of having been where he was, when he was.  
  
Somewhere in her mind, she knew there was another reason. But he was her friend, dammit, and friends didn't abandon one another simply because of something like that.  
  
Willow shrugged, answering Xander earlier question. "I don't know. I don't think moving out of Sunnydale is an option. I'm not leaving either you or Buffy here. One of us stays, we all stay, right?"  
  
Xander looked unhappy for a second, until Willow leaned down and met his red-tinted eyes with her painfully bright green ones. "Right?" She asked with a hint of menace. Her eyes looked into his soul, and Xander clamped down on his thoughts. Thrawn had told him the capabilities of Dark Jedi. And while Mara wasn't necessarily as evil as her master or his right hand Darth Vader, she still ranked high on the 'not to be shitted with' list.  
  
"Right, Willow." Xander's words brought her out of wherever she had been, and she backed up, looking apologetic.  
  
Giles sank into a chair, removing his dark glasses and closing his eyes, massaging the bridge of his nose. "I'm afraid that this does still not adequately explain this turn of events for me, Willow. Xander, you said something about explaining?"  
  
"Yes, I did." Xander stood up and turned away, walking to the window to stare out of it. "I'm guessing you know who I went as, yeah?"  
  
Giles nodded. "Grand Admiral Thrawn. But I only know the name. I have no other familiarity with the character."  
  
"He was what he sounded like: a Grand Admiral in the Empire. You've seen Star Wars, right?"  
  
"Right."  
  
"The Empire was extremely xenophobic. The Emperor - Palpatine - made the most racist son of a bitch here look like he was a hippie. Aliens had almost no rights in the Empire, and half-Breeds were even worse. For an alien - which Thrawn was, because he was a Chiss - to rise to the rank of Grand Admiral was an unheard of feat. He would not only have to contend with the xenophobia of his peers as he went through the ranks, but of his superiors too. Thrawn was made of stern stuff, though: he wouldn't give up, no matter what. When he reached the attention of the Emperor, he was summoned, and nearly executed on the spot for being so obviously alien. Eventually, for his superior tactical skills, he was made a Grand Admiral - but to lessen the perceived insult, Palpatine bundled him off to the Unknown Regions - massive swathes of space that were unexplored and for the most part extremely hostile - for 'exploration and mapping' duty. He had a small fleet, and loss of something wasn't going to lead to a replacement. His already astounding tactical skills were polished to a level that no other could touch. That's my... I mean, his life in a nutshell."  
  
Giles slid the glasses back on, having listened to Xander's quiet revelations with shocked - and not a little frightened - astonishment. "My word."  
  
Xander sighed. "Yeah. That's what I think, too."

* * *

Spike swaggered back into the warehouse he had chained Jonathon, and froze as he took in the gaping hole that used to be a wall.  
  
His mouth dropped open in shock, and amazed, muttered, "What the bloody...?"  
  
He got no further. His body was suddenly weightless and floating upwards, he caught a glimpse of his tormentor, turned tormented.  
  
Now, the tables had turned again.  
  
Spike screamed as Ultimecia ripped into him, maiming, but not killing. Blood dripped onto the floor below, and Spike realised that even after a hundred and fifty years of inflicting pain and suffering on others - or watching his Sire and Grandsire do it in his stead - still, he did not really know pain.  
  
Now he had learned.  
  
His battered body landed with a sickening - and rather final - crunch on the concrete below.  
  
Ultimecia snarled at the body of her toy. "Pitiful. You did not even last."  
  
Waving her hand, Spikes severed arm flew off the table where it had lain, and reattached to the vampires elbow.  
  
Then the broken vampire jerked upright as she perfected her control.  
  
Spike's eyes were blank as he bowed, head to the ground, at the possessed figure of Jonathon high in the air above.

* * *

Review?  
  
Oh, and unless I catch a serious break at Uni, this will be the last part of this for a while - although there might be other fics appearing occasionally. I'm still working on it, but I need to get some final year project work done while I've got time. :) It was meant to start early June, but due to various reasons, it's basically only just started. sigh 


End file.
